Slick as Ides
by Chanse Lowell
Summary: AH/AU BxE What happens when a thief crosses a germophobe, geeky, brilliant inventor, by stealing her car? Well, more than her car and her prototype worth more than millions are taken from her... Tons of hand sanitzer is required, along with a dirty mouth and handcuffs. Dubcon and BDSM themes warning; crude/offensive language. But lots of smiles and self-fanning.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: WARNING: There is some extremely crude language, along with scenes in this chapter that could be upsetting/offensive to some because it could be considered dubious consent. I assure you, it's not meant to offend, it's merely a story, and meant to be sexy, rough, fun. There are also some BDSM themes at play here as well. Read at your own discretion . . .**

**Slick as Ides**

**Chapter 1: Breaking the Ides**

_BPOV_

_Blip, blip, blip._

_Stupid light!_

I hate yellow.

I hate warnings.

And most of all I hate I have to do this.

My heart pounds as I turn into the gas station. I'm out of my basic necessities, and the panic isn't getting better.

"Uuuhhhhaaaaahhhh," I release a tight, dizzying breath.

My knuckles pop as my grip on the wheel doubles in intensity.

Every time I consider what I'll be doing in a few moments, my vision almost blurs.

My heart is driving its way out of my chest and into my stomach.

Sweat dots my brow.

After passing by two other gas stations too busy for my liking, I pull into the Chevron on the corner of Ficus and Coleman Rd.

I sigh. "This one'll have to do," I tell myself.

My breath catches as I slow the vehicle down and take in my surroundings.

There's a car on each end—two total, and I can use the standard guys' bathroom rules while fueling up my car. I stay in the middle stall with as much empty space between us as possible, and don't look at anything but my task at hand.

My shoulders round and hunch forward as I coast the car to a stop.

Why didn't I get an assistant like my friend, Riot, suggested?

_I'm a stubborn moron, that's why!_

"Stupid know-it-all," I mutter to myself.

Riot's words echo in my head and put my stomach in such a knot, it feels like there's a Chinese finger-trap inside, and my guts are trying to break free of the death grip hold it has on them. I'm a step away from screaming, and with my heart slamming about inside my chest, things are only getting worse.

I stir in my seat, huff a little at my arrogance in thinking I can handle these things myself.

Anxiety is not a disorder. It's a way of life.

I scan the grocery store gas station once more before opening the door and cautiously stepping out.

The second my hand grips the door, it's shaking. Fingering the outline of my cell phone in my jeans pocket, helps calm me.

Technology—my friend.

My saving grace in a crisis like this one.

I grip the edge of my phone through my pocket once more and square my shoulders. I can do this.

Until a feeling of dread drapes itself across the backs of my shoulders and has the hairs pricking at the edge of my neck.

I blink hard. Suddenly, everything around me feels off—all of it.

The environment puts me on edge even though it's devoid of people.

In the amount of time I've been standing here, the other two cars have left.

My mind goes through everything I could have forgotten—the reason I most likely feel off-center.

Did I leave the doors unlocked at home?

_Impossible. The chip inside you does it automatically._

I reach up and grip the back of my neck, swiping my thumb across the spot where the chip's implanted.

Then what?

I'm forgetting something; I know I am.

_You're forgetting your lungs. Breathe!_

"Ugh! It's just gas, that's all," I berate myself and smack my thigh with my hand that was fondling my phone like an old lover.

I snort at myself and squeeze the back of my neck.

I'm fine. My chip's in place.

So, why do I get the sense I'm being watched?

I get back in the car for a moment and put my precautions in place. Never know what can happen in an unguarded moment.

I remove my stereo's face. That goes in my backpack, along with the cord. Pretty soon I'll have the stereo to the car rigged to my chip along with the rest of the car.

My twisting gut sets me in motion, and I put on the false, stereo front and then hook in the decoy cord.

I'm quick, and make sure my movements are small so if I really am being watched, nobody will realize what I'm doing.

Should I grab my model in back?

I hesitate, but then talk myself out of it.

_It's just gas! This isn't war. Takes five minutes tops if you'd stop hesitating!_

My heart pounds in my chest like I'm running a marathon, and my palms start to sweat.

I slip the backpack on in a flash as I step outside into the cool, night air.

Right as I turn around to shut the car door, I'm greeted by a loiterer.

Probably homeless.

I huff to myself.

Only he doesn't look like any vagrant I've ever seen before. He's too attractive to be a social pariah.

But then, looks can be deceiving. I know this.

I squint. Do I know him? Looks familiar . . .

My mouth goes dry as my eyes roam across his gorgeous face, and his emerald eyes sparkle at me with a hint of mischief.

I remember eyes that looked like that from years ago . . .

He smiles, and my throat constricts.

My mind goes blank, and I want to look away, but I can't.

"Um, excuse me, pretty lady, could you spare some change? My bike just got stolen, and I need to get something to eat," he says, his voice a raspy, hypnotic tenor.

He grins even wider—all whites and perfection.

Do homeless people have a dental plan I'm unaware of? Because his teeth are shinier than mine, and I'm fixated with having a clean oral space.

My eyes narrow at him.

I want to ask him to empty out his pockets so I can see what brand of toothbrush and floss he uses, along with his choice of toothpaste.

If I can get my teeth that dazzling white, maybe people will like me and talk to me because I can finally stop obsessing over my breath being minty-fresh and clean.

_That's not why people avoid you . . . _

_Shut up!_

I gulp, and search for words.

Nothing comes to me.

_Shocking._

To throw me even further into a state of stupor, he dazzles me by tossing his hair out of the way of his hypnotic eyes. There's a scattering of amber around the pupil that bleeds out into a bright green rim, captivating me and making me forget I'm a mute imbecile, gawking at him.

"I . . . Uh . . ." I mumble and shift about.

He asked me something, didn't he?

He looks like he's three months overdue for a haircut, which makes sense for a homeless person, but on him . . . whoa! He should keep it this way.

He'd make a nice wallpaper for my laptop, even in his stained, torn, faded jeans and rumpled tee shirt.

Where the hell did that thought come from?

I stare down at my shoe. He's too pretty to look at. He's confusing me.

He coughs, and I step back.

I grip my backpack strap tightly, on my shoulder. He makes me nervous.

And fuck no! He's coughing.

Germs!

I tuck my hands in my pocket, fumbling to find my hand sanitizer, but it's not there.

Oh shit. That's why I came here in the first place. Not because I needed gas, initially. Needed more supplies to kill germs.

_This is bad. Get in your car and go!_

He clears his throat, and a nasty wave of nausea hits me.

He's diseased! And he's standing less than three feet away.

Goose bumps drive their way through my skin into my bloodstream, making my blood turn to ice.

I cross my arms over my chest.

_No, don't leave. Be brave for once. Stand here and catch whatever drool you let loose when you look at his fuck-hot face again. That's the intelligent, responsible thing to do._

_Either way, you look like a social reject and you don't have any hand sanitizer to clean up your face after you catch your saliva. Best leave and bleach your face when you get home._

"So, do you? Have a few bucks to spare?" he asks, breaking me out of my trance-like mode.

"Uhm . . . n-no. I don't ever carry cash on m-me," I stammer, self-conscious.

When I dare to look up, his grin spreads like watercolors on a moist paper, taking over his whole facial canvas and officially becoming the most breathtaking thing I've ever seen.

_Beauty? Give me a break. You don't know this creep. And where the hell did he come from? One minute you were completely alone, and then he practically materializes out of thin air. And forget about art. It's not a part of you anymore. Run! Now!_

My insides clench, and bile threatens to make an appearance.

I rub my arms to give me a moment to think, and get rid of the chills.

It doesn't work. The sound of his breathing makes my heart hammer harder.

"Awww, c'mon. You're telling me you don't even have a few loose quarters in your purse you can spare?" he lilts.

What the fluffy fuck? Is he flirting with me?

No, wait . . .

Is he heckling me?

_See! Told ya you look like a fool. Of course he's gonna make you think he's attracted to you so he can get what he wants._

Money.

Does it always have to be about money?

My eyes flash down to the asphalt. This is all I'm good for when it comes to men—trying to steal my ideas, take my money or find a way to use me to build their own business and power.

I'm no longer sucked in by his model-worthy body or smile. Who cares that his biceps and forearms flex with the smallest movement? Not me.

I'm stone.

Or maybe Formica.

I like that stuff. It's inexpensive, sturdy, and looks nice. Not to mention it's non-porous.

_Yes, that's it. I'm Formica, and you, buddy, are not._

_You're mud on my shoe with attractive eyes. And I hate mud. It grosses me out. But I do like your eyes . . ._

A lump forms in my throat at the thought of squishy, diseased mud.

"I can't talk about this. I have things to do," I say, looking at him briefly, then diverting my eyes away from him.

He lurches forward when I'm about to open the gas tank flap, and I yelp.

His hands are on me!

He _touches _my arm.

_Germs, germs, germs! Oh God, no!_

I jump at the contact and scramble away from him.

_He's dangerous! He's not afraid to touch you!_

I shrink into myself; pull up the hood on my sweatshirt.

_Grab the gun out of your backpack. Tell him to back off!_

_No! That'll require you take your eyes off him, and now you can't even afford to blink. He might try to do something else to you._

"Hey, hey . . . relax. I'm not gonna hurt you," he says, throwing his hands up in surrender right away.

"Don't do that—don't t-t-touch me," I say, my voice shaking so hard I struggle to breathe. My tongue feels heavy, yet slushy. A bead of sweat rolls down my neck, even though it's kind of a brisk night. My diaphragm is spasming uncontrollably.

Instinct kicks in, and I scan his entire body for any identifying marks in case he commits a crime.

Good Lord . . . he's like me. No tattoos; pale, flawless skin and no pock marks, scars or freckles.

Does he stay indoors all the time, too?

Maybe he's afraid to be out?

_Yeah, right. And he has no idea how good-looking he is either. _

I back away even more, hoping he'll leave on his own, based on how uncomfortable he's making me.

Maybe I could run if he doesn't leave?

But then . . . I have my model in the backseat. It's my prototype, so I can't leave it behind.

Even if I can consider replacing this car, the other piece is more important.

"I'm begging you, lady. You've got this expensive car, and I'm really hungry. You honestly don't have a few bucks you can spare? I'd pump your gas for you in exchange. Those things are covered in germs, and a pretty woman like you doesn't need to dirty her hands up on something as filthy as that," he says, motioning his head toward the pump. Then he has the audacity to reach forward for a handshake.

He swallows hard, and must realize his mistake when I grimace because he abruptly shoves his hand in his pocket and his shoulders hunch up in a sheepish way.

"Too late; you already touched me without my permission," I blurt.

My face heats for a moment when I realize how crazy I sound.

"I'm really sorry about that. I didn't mean anything by it," he apologizes.

I duck my head, and realize this is all wrong.

Everything about it is unsafe.

My door is open; he's standing right inside it, next to my seat. How the hell did I let this happen? He almost had me walking in circles around my car with the way he keeps prowling toward me.

There are no keys inside though, since it's all rigged to my chip, but still . . . he could easily slip inside my car and cover the seat with his homeless bacteria.

Oh. Shit!

_No, no, no!_

His hand reaches out and he leans into the side of my seat, resting his palm there.

I wince and gasp for air.

This has never happened to me before. Nobody has touched this seat but me!

_What were you thinking, Bella? You're supposed to be some kind of genius—doesn't look like you're so brilliant now!_

I grind my heel into the road. Gas. I need to fill up the tank on my car so I can get out of here.

I can get hand sanitizer ingredients somewhere else.

"Hey, look, I can see I'm making you uptight, and I wouldn't be asking if I wasn't desperate. Please, honey?" he coos.

Okay, now he's overdoing it.

I'm not this dense.

I glare at him.

My knees are still wobbly, and my breath shallow, but I can think through it enough to see he's not what he says he is.

_He's a liar._

_You have no proof. He seems okay. And he's still really nice to look at._

Doesn't matter how hot he is and how good he smells. My head goes foggy and my eyes glaze over as I take a deep whiff. Wow. That's nice.

No. This is wrong. I need to be more assertive, that's all. He'll leave me alone.

"I said _no_. I don't have any cash, and I don't have a purse inside my car. I don't carry one!" I say in a rush of adrenaline.

"All right, all right, I gotcha," he says, and departs with a playful wink.

I stand rigid; my feet are roots, burrowed into the asphalt. I can't move.

"What was that?" I mutter to myself, barely blinking, and still a little dazed by his intoxicating scent.

He hops a half wall about ten feet away and heads for the bus stop another five feet ahead of him.

I can't stop staring after him.

Wait. Something's . . . this is worse than before. I can figure this out . . .

He's good-looking, and most definitely smells like somebody who showers and takes personal hygiene seriously . . . _Hey_! He did not smell like a man, living on the streets.

He was wearing cologne, and his breath was minty fresh. Not to mention, he smelled extremely clean. I know; I'm an expert on being clean.

Was he . . . ?

_He _is _a liar!_

_No, Ides, he's some crazy person passing through. Stop over-thinking—that's how anxiety builds up, remember?_

Those stains on his clothes and holes were fabricated. He's a con artist, probably hired by Hillcourt Corporation.

_He knows you've got the prototype in the back of the car._

Just a glimpse of it could be all he is after. Shit! Did he see it?

I cup my hands on the window and peak in back to make sure it's still there.

It is, and I sigh, letting my spine loosen a bit.

What was I thinking? He couldn't have seen through my windows, tinted with resiliency flare shield. He wouldn't have been able to see a dang thing unless he craned his neck around my seat, which he didn't do.

_You're safe_.

I allow a breath to invade my lungs, and square my shoulders.

_Pump gas, and get out of here._

_You can get your hand sanitizing ingredients tomorrow._

_Drop off the model tomorrow as well. This is too much for you._

A hiss of breath escapes me, and I resemble a leaking balloon.

My fingers fidget for a moment, and then I manage to uproot my heels and move to the gas flap.

In a bundle of nerves, I open it, unscrew the gas cap, and turn to the gas payment machine thingy. I squint.

My head can't even remember the names of everyday things right now. I roll my eyes at myself.

This is ridiculous. Who cares what this machine's called?

I try to calm my trembling fingers as I turn to the gas pump.

My head focuses on a project—a new invention—I've got back home. As soon as I get into my office, I'll be relaxed, and everything'll be fine again.

My eyes clench closed, and I take another tight breath, hoping it will sooth my addled brain.

Next thing I know, my car is rocketing off, and out of the parking lot.

I turn and scream, "You can't do this!"

My legs turn from the heavy poles they were moments ago, to a cheetah's powerful pistons.

I'm running at maximum speed after my car, and as I hop over the same wall the distracting man did, I realize he's gone.

Where did he go?

Is he the culprit behind the wheel?

Son of a bitch! This is unbelievable!

I make a mental checklist of his attributes. His eyes and hair are easy to recall, especially since they were both such odd colors. The rest of his build? Not as easy, and I like precision. I think he's about six foot two or thereabouts, and size eleven shoes, approximate weight one-hundred-eighty.

He's toned, but not bulky; kind of a runner's physique.

Nice hands despite their touching me without my permission. They seemed oddly familiar, too.

_And you know exactly what he smells like._

My left eye twitches and my hands ball into fists. I can get my car back. And I can get back at him for daring to take something belonging to me.

My car disappears, like the vapor of a man he is, as it rounds a corner.

There's enough adrenaline in me I can continue to chase after him, and I can even shoot at him, but I kind of like that car.

The other one isn't as nice.

But then I inherited the other.

Fucking, ruddy, monkey balls!

My prototype!

What if he's got it in his hands right now?

I gasp, heaving in great volumes of air, but it doesn't help.

Oh great. He's got me so angry, I'm reverting to old curse words I made up in high school with my electronics riot-wire-nerds.

I yank my backpack off, take a seat on the bus-stop bench, trying to ignore the creepy-crawly, germy feeling, sliding up my spine.

Before the next bus arrives, I grapple with my phone, tuning it into my car's specific frequency and make sure to turn the light down so people won't be frightened when they see me spying on the thief inside my car.

I'll have my car back before the night's over!

The sound of a rumbling bus, approaching, does little to relieve me of the helpless, treacherous heebie-jeebies, skyrocketing through my system. I'm surrounded by microscopic raw germs and sewage traces.

My skin crawls, and I push the thoughts aside of babies sitting on this seat in nothing but soiled diapers, partially toothless people who smoke with stained teeth, and worst of all, people failing to thoroughly wash their hands after using the toilet.

Without any forethought, I'm up and off the bench; my backpack secured as I pace and hover over my phone, still uploading my links.

I type in the final code to get live, video-feed from my false, stereo-face in my car.

"Who's that?" I whisper to myself, completely enveloped in my task.

I barely register the bus heading my way.

I zoom in so I can get a better look at the punk that thought my car was free for the taking.

And then I hear it. The same voice that spoke to me and rattled my insides so thoroughly, is chatting with somebody in my car.

I knew it! I knew he did it!

I pull some earbuds out of my backpack and hook it up to my phone, then slip the ends into my ears.

"I told you I could do it. Pay up," the gorgeous conman says from the passenger's seat of my car.

"I have to admit . . . that was pretty slick," the driver responds.

The driver looks formidable in size. His barrel chest and linebacker shoulders make me think twice about going after my car.

But I have a firearm, and I know how to keep a safe distance so they can't hit me, should they have their own guns.

That's my car; my first car I chose and bought. And similar to the first twenty dollar bill I ever made, which I promptly framed and hung up in my room, this means something to me, and I look at it often.

_It's just a car!_

But I need that prototype in the backseat.

_It's just a million dollar model. No big deal. You made it for fun on a weekend because you were bored. You're gonna give the money to charity anyway._

_Yeah, but you promised, and you never break your word. You have to deliver it by tomorrow night._

I slip into a rant with a few choice curse words.

Thankfully there's no one around to hear me.

I cringe at the sound of the bus, squeaking to a stop in front of me.

Without turning my phone off, I slip inside the disgusting bus doors and pay the fee without making eye contact or giving any kind of recognition to the bus driver.

I kind of smirk, thinking about how I have cash on me, enough to pay for bus fare until the end of this century, but didn't give any of it to the man now joy-riding around in my car.

The bus driver seems distracted by the other people on the bus as I tuck my wad of cash away, and I doubt he cares what I do as I fumble with my phone, keeping my nose almost pressed to it.

I find a seat at the front, away from the loud, obnoxious group of teenagers at the back.

I turn up the volume on my phone to hear what the perpetrators in my car are conversing about.

"I know. Now will you admit I'm slick as Ides?" the fake homeless guy says.

"No, Vapor, you conceited bastard, I won't, so quit pestering me. No one's as good as that guy. Face it . . . you'll always be in his shadow," the burly driver says, chuckling.

I snicker.

They're talking about me. And I am not a _he_.

"Whatever," Vapor says. He waves his friend off. "You're jealous, and you always have been. No one's as slick as I am. I lifted her car out from under her nose; the rich snob! She wouldn't even give me a quarter, and you know she's loaded with a car like this. What a bitch . . ."

"Well, if I remember it correctly, I'm the one that actually drove off with it. You did your thespian part well, but I had to execute the actual heist," his friend brags.

"Shut it. I did all the work. Your part was easy; no thinking required," Vapor says.

I remotely shift the view of the camera that's in the car, so I can stare at Vapor, instead of the intimidating behemoth of a man behind the wheel.

Vapor reaches for my stereo, and I'm laughing now.

"I've gotcha!" I murmur.

He has no idea how caught he is.

Vapor fiddles with the stereo, but nothing happens.

He can't turn it on, but for a moment he's too caught up in his bravado to realize it's not working.

"I'm not called Fingers for nothin'," the driver says.

"You like to think so anyway." Vapor snorts, and then he growls, "What is wrong with this stereo?"

"Did you plug in the iPhone?" Fingers asks.

"Yes, you moron, I'm not as stupid as you. If you'd paid attention, you'd have noticed I put it in as soon as you opened the car door. I had it in place before my ass was in the seat," Vapor huffs, his face contorting in confusion.

I can't stop laughing, and a few people stare at me.

I duck my head and try to be a little more discreet about my voyeuristic activities.

"God, this sucks!" Vapor says, throwing his hands up in the air. "Now we'll have to put in a new stereo system, and I wanted this car changed out and sold tonight."

Fingers laughs and says, "I'll keep it. This has gotta be the most amazing car we've ever lifted."

"We can't keep it, asshole. It's too risky. Stop trying to think before you blow the last of the few brain cells you have left in that head."

I snort a laugh.

From my periphery, I can just make out the bus driver, giving me incredulous looks. He most likely thinks I'm insane, laughing to myself.

Well, I am, and medication doesn't seem to cure it—only hand sanitizer and electronics do .So much for me thinking the driver wouldn't care what I did or even notice me. I shift in my seat, angling away from him a little more.

The bus makes its scheduled path, block after block, and I wait for it to take me to them.

Tracing them is easy. I have Vapor's DNA from the gene capture on my faux stereo face. I know their faces, their code names, and the cord they did not remove from my stereo, has a tracking device inside it, so I know exactly where they're going.

And if that wasn't the best part—he actually plugged his iPhone into my trap.

As they continue to talk about how fabulous they are, my iPhone sucks the information out of his, like juice from a straw. A small side window on my screen rifles through his information: phone contacts, emails, music, videos, photos, and a few browsers he left open online. Seems he's got quite a sizable bank account, and a penchant for BDSM porn. He must not be too horrible a criminal if he's amassed this kind of wealth, but still . . . not as slick as me, and I don't need ropes in my bedroom to feel like I have control of my lover's body.

"Okay, let's see here," I mumble to myself, and bite my lip as I traipse through his personal information.

His name is Edward Cullen.

Psht! What a boring name. No wonder he gave himself a code name.

Wait . . . Those eyes, that name, Edward . . .

_You're imagining things. That was a long time ago._

I blink hard and go back to my information in the palm of my hand, ignoring the pit that's settled in my stomach.

Let's see . . . his friend is . . . well, at least Emmett McCarty, aka Fingers, is smart enough to keep his friend's identity secret on his iPhone, which they've now hooked up to my stereo since they probably think Edward's is broken—failing to work with my sound system.

I stifle a giggle. Here, Edward's been razzing his friend about being an idiot, and Edward's phone was the one that gave me all the crucial information I needed.

The bus pulls up and lets me off a block away from where they parked my car.

My skin is crawling again. I've touched filthy things. Maybe I should stop and get some waterless sanitizer after all? It will only take a few minutes.

I glance around, and notice this is a pretty seedy neighborhood, so my legs start pushing me forward—taking me toward them.

"You got it?" I can hear them say in my phone. They're outside my car now, and there are scraping sounds and stiff plastic being maneuvered about.

_Shit! No! You like that car, and you don't handle change well. They're about to change your vehicle's exterior. And any minute now, they'll realize where the model is and take it._

Wait a minute. They don't work for . . .

They can't, or they'd have taken it by now. Or at least they would have searched for it.

I burst into a sprint, and ignore my internal battle waging over germs versus wanting to right a wrong and take back what's mine.

I rush down the block while simultaneously watching my phone in horror.

The camera view changes at my command, but it's limited.

They really are outside my car, preparing it for a quick paint job.

Fuckers! I like black.

I really, really like black.

My stride lengthens, and my pace quickens.

If they make it some hideous color like banana-yellow or fire-engine-red, I won't hesitate to shoot their kneecaps off.

They'll deserve it if they do something that idiotic.

Before I arrive at the body shop, barely visible behind a trash-heap of a pawn shop in front of it, I wrangle out my handgun.

I swallow hard, step up to the gate and shove it open.

They're so amateur they don't even have an alarm system in place. I roll my eyes.

The hinges squeak a little from past rain and rust, but they can't possibly hear it. Not with how busy and loud they're being.

I burst through the front door and don't even bother to shout.

A bullet flies out of the gun as I squeeze the trigger, and it hits the hubcap hanging on the wall behind Edward, or should I say, Vapor.

A bit of bile reaches the back of my throat and against all my instincts, I swallow it down and keep a straight face.

His reflexes make him collapse to the floor in a panic.

"That's my car," I snarl.

"What the fuck?" Emmett, or Fat Fingers as I now call him, mutters, as he drops what he's doing.

He was a second away from painting the bumper.

I aim the gun at him next. "What color did you choose?" I ask, baiting him. My hand is steady, though inside I'm shaking.

I'm a computer hacker, an inventor—not this. Not the monster Dad turned into. I want peace; a place where guns aren't necessary.

I'm against criminal activity though.

"Metallic purple," Emmett says, his voice shaking.

I chuckle a little. This brick-wall of a man is afraid of me. _Me?_ I'm tiny and insignificant.

"I don't mind purple, actually, so the choice isn't bad, but black is better. So if you don't mind stepping away from my car," I say, my voice calm. My eye twitches, but I'm far away enough I doubt they can see it.

My gun is still level when I let another bullet rip and whiz past his head into the hanging pegboard covered in tools behind him.

_Tools to change my car! _

My face scrunches, and my gut clenches over what they were about to take away—one of the few things I enjoy in my drab life.

"You might want to move a little faster. I had an ocular procedure last week so my aim might be a little off," I threaten him.

He skulks away, and I spot Edward, trying to be oh so vapor-like, placing something under the carriage of my car.

"Get that tracer off my car!" I jerk my head toward the spot he was just touching.

Edward stands up and glares at me.

When I glance at the shelf next to me, there's some hand sanitizer there. I take a squirt and pass the gun from hand-to-hand as I freshen up my skin.

"Look, lady . . ." he huffs and rolls his eyes ". . . I don't know who you think you are, but you're not a superhero here." He's even more spectacular to look at when he's seething at me. My heart flutters, and my lips part as my mouth goes wet. "We have a job to do, and you're only slowing us down."

I laugh. "This is a _job_? Oh, forgive me . . . I thought it was a hobby. Since you're never going to be as slick as Ides," I repeat what they said in the car, smirking.

His eyes go wide, followed by his whole body slouching forward.

"How the hell did you know what we said?" His mouth makes an O shape when I smile hard at him, and it's almost as impressive as the saucer shape of his wide eyes.

"Oh, I know a lot of things . . ." I smile, and then the humiliation really begins when my eidetic memory kicks in. "Edward Cullen, who lives at 2259 Quail Run Rd, Avondale, Arizona." I quirk a brow, mocking him. "That's a pretty expensive neighborhood you live in. I love gated communities, but they're so nineties, wouldn't you agree?"

They simply gape at me silently.

"Must be a hefty mortgage, but then you're not solely responsible, now are you, _Edward_?" I spit his name as harshly as the bullets I'd let loose from my weapon moments ago.

"How can you know all of this?" Edward asks.

I smile broadly, enough he can probably count most of my white teeth. Not as white as his, but still . . . They're in good shape.

"This is impossible," Emmett adds.

I move toward my car.

"Even now, as I stand here, your fingerprints are downloaded on my phone. Thanks for making sure to touch my car stereo—so brilliant of you." I snicker. "My database I have at home is searching for a police file on you both. When it's done, it'll shoot it back to me, and I'll know even more. You don't mess with this bitch." I take one hand off the gun handle, glance down at my phone for a second, and it comes up empty. "Oh, too bad, you've never served jail time before. I'll have to remedy that for you, but it appears your roommate, sharing the title of the home with you, a Mr. Jasper Whitlock, has served two years for petty theft."

Emmett gasps.

"Well, _helllllllloooooo_, Jasper," I say, as a picture of Vapor's roommate pops up on my phone. I make a face like he's pretty decent to look at.

A moment later, and I'll know more about who he is, too.

"You know, for a crook with two-point-nine-million dollars in your bank account—that I'd diversify if I was you—I would think you could train your accomplice here to hone his skills. He needs a better poker face, but then you're the one with the 'thespian' skills, aren't you, Edward?"

I circle around the car, and they give a wide berth, moving away from me in the same direction, looking nervous like I'll shoot them if they don't orbit around my vehicle, keeping the appropriate distance from me.

"Move all of this plastic off my car, all of the tape, too," I demand, motioning with the gun for them to move closer to my car before I take my vehicle back.

"Who the hell are you, lady?" Emmett asks, sounding in awe.

"Just call me Shadow, because you never saw me. You never touched my car—I'll need to sanitize and detail now, thanks to you bozos—it's gonna take a good week to complete," I complain. "And you never talked to me."

"Who. The. Hell. Are. _You_?" Edward grits, his face turning red, his hands on his hips.

"Man, she's gotta be . . ." Emmett trails off.

I smirk. Well, well, well . . . Emmett's smarter than I originally thought, and definitely more so than Edward believes him to be. He knows Ide's work when he sees it.

"Knock it off," Edward says. "Ides is a man." He rolls his eyes at his friend.

I giggle, and shrug.

"Nobody knows if Ides is male or female; no one's ever seen them," Emmett argues, ripping the plastic off.

It sounds like they've had this argument before.

"Careful!" I say, worried he's going to mess up my pristine paint job. I've only driven this car a little more than two dozen times. The mileage is low, along with the normal damage from use.

"Think about it . . ." Emmett goes back to his line of thinking, continuing to clear off my car ". . . only Ides could do all this. No one else has this kind of technology. What she's done is unreal. It has Ide's signature all over it."

My ever-present grin tonight has grown exponentially.

"Stop it!" Edward yells. "This bitch is lying! She's making shit up as she goes!" He grips his head like he's trying to keep it from spinning off. "She's not Ides!"

The last of the plastic drops to the floor, along with the ball of tape Emmett wadded up. When he's finished, he backs away.

"Step away from my car, Son," I tell Edward. "I don't want to run you over—blood is the worst to clean up." I lean over and pump another glob of sanitizer into my hand and liberally spread it back and forth between my hands again. Just the thought of blood.

Fuck . . . So yucky!

He groans and stays stuck in spot.

"_Son_?" He glares. "I'm sure I'm older than you. You barely look twenty."

"I'm twenty-four, actually," I correct him with a wink, reminding him he did that to me earlier, and it was equally annoying then.

"You have to admit though, she's one of us," Emmett tells him.

"I don't know what she is . . ." Edward shakes his head ". . . other than psychotic. She's some kind of a freak, that's what she is."

"Better a freak than a petty criminal, a panhandler straight from the school of William Shatner's over-acting one-oh-one," I say, my hands visibly shaking now.

Emmett laughs.

And Edward . . . well, his jaw flexes. His teeth look like they're grinding, and it's such a shame since he has such straight, nice, white teeth. A heartbeat later, and a vein throbs at his right temple.

He groans even louder with a frustrated, strangled sound, and I circle them again.

"Get over in front of the hanging tool board, and place both palms flat on it. Don't look back," I bark.

They both drag their feet, with aggravation detailed all over their body language.

It's pretty obvious, they're not really afraid anymore, but they know they've been beaten.

I laugh, watching them get into position.

Edward of course disobeys me with his eyes. His hands are in place, but his head is craning around to see me.

I wrench the tracker off my car he placed on the underside. Edward growls like a dog when I lob it at his head.

His hand snatches it out of the air before it hits him, and he slips it into his pocket.

_Good reflexes . . . and very nice hands, even if they did dare to touch me._

My insides clench deliciously, and a wave of heat passes through my thighs.

_No, they're ugly! Like his insides. He's a creepy asshole!_

Absentmindedly, I rub a smudge off my door handle from one of their fingerprints.

He chokes on a cough and his eyes go wide.

I've just erased some evidence of them having my car in their possession.

Whatever.

I'm not gonna file a police report. Once I have this car back home, they won't be able to do anything.

A moment later, a vision of his extra fine-looking hand on my arm, invades my mind, and instead of my usual reaction of revulsion, my heart flutters.

I mask my sudden ragged breathing, with a fake cough.

He glowers at me.

What? Does he think I'm making fun of his cough?

_Stupid, Ides. He's a clown. You have to forget about him and that little interchange. Who cares what he thinks or that he touched you?_

I look away, preparing to leave and never see him again.

Right before I step into my car, he calls out to me, "Ides!"

It sounds remarkably close—like he's only a step or two behind me.

And foolish me—I reflexively respond to my name, turning to look at him.

His lips are latched to mine in the blink of an eye. He kisses me with a fierceness that takes my breath away.

A liquid fire courses through my throat and lands straight in my pussy.

I groan; my body screaming at me to grip onto him and never let go.

_Never!_

I gasp.

_Shove him off! Germs! Germs! Horrid, fucking germs!_

But I . . . I hesitate, and his hands clamp onto my upper arms.

My eyes grow large.

Touch! Not again . . .

I jump back; he does the same in response.

"Bella . . . is that you?" he asks, his brows scrunched together.

My cheek flame in utter mortification—this asshole knows who I am?

He's like kryptonite! He knows too much, making me vulnerable and his intense stare turns my bones to jelly.

I fire off a few rounds close to his right foot as additional warning to stay away. Then I quickly drop into my car and race out of there, breathless and a sweating mess.

"Good going, you idiot, you might as well have told the guy you live two blocks away from him, and you'd love to spend some more time with your lips on his!" I shout at myself, slamming my palms into the steering wheel.

I press down harder on the gas. My lips throb from that fiery kiss.

I can't get home fast enough.

He kisses even better than I could've imagined.

And was that . . . ?

No, he can't be. I don't know that tool back there. I'm imagining things—it's not the same guy.

I make the mistake of looking in my rear-view mirror. Edward's outside. He's staring at me in amazement as I flee.

And the vision of him watching me leave makes me feel . . . _off_.

I grip the wheel tighter, and breathe in and out; deep, calming breaths.

I _really_ don't like that guy.

Fucking stupid, freaking-out body!

I clamp my thighs closed. They're leaking in the middle for him.

Bastard. Kissing me? Who does that after stealing someone's car and getting caught?

"Mrraaaahhhhh!" I scream and stretch my neck, continuing to drive as fast as I can.

At a stop light, I rip my hoodie off, and chuck it in the backseat.

Within moments, I'm back home, tucked up safe in my car, hidden away in my own, personal, bat cave.

I almost roll off the seat once I have the door open.

What now?

I'm too exhausted to scrub my car down.

I head inside; find a way to get a few more drops out of the last of my homemade sanitizer.

My feet shuffle around, heavy and uncooperative as I head to my office.

I plunk down in my seat and stare at my newest ideas I'm working on, but my eyes shift away, and I'm anything but interested in working.

How? How did I wind up caring about what he thought about me?

He thinks I'm repellent.

_But he kissed you . . ._

I fight off a shiver, and look for my sweater, but for some asinine reason, it's not resting on the back of my chair as usual.

When I pause and think about it . . . I'm not cold. And my sweater's in the dryer. I had to wash it after I sneezed.

I get up, and strip down, all of the sudden feeling grimy and obnoxiously dirty.

I kick off my Doc Martens and yank off my socks. My black jeans fall to the floor, and I have my black tee shirt off a moment later. I fling it on top of my pants.

They all land under the desk, and I realize that for the first time in my life, I'm being messy, and I don't give a fuck.

Why should I? I was almost violated.

I traipse back to my bedroom with my head tipped down.

My body wants to crash on me, and when I'm within falling distance of my mattress, I allow myself to land face first into the fluffy comforter I secretly love with all its purple ruffles and flowery patterns.

"Well, fuck, you don't waste time," a familiar voice lilts.

"Ahhhhhh!" I scream, and before I can jump off the bed, strong arms grip mine behind me, and I'm suddenly cuffed to the top of my black, iron headboard.

"Oh, yeah, I'm gonna have fun with you!" Edward says with a shifty smile.

"Let me go, you nasty fucker, and I won't send you straight to prison for this," I howl.

He nudges my leg with his wrist. "Let's talk some more about that." He rubs his jaw. "Or maybe . . . Just maybe, we should talk about how I outsmarted you, breaking into your impenetrable fortress. Rumor is, not only are you invincible, and no one knows who you are, but you're also supposed to have the most secure home in the US. Not very secure from where I'm standing." He chuckles and paces at my side, brushing up against the side of the bed as he goes.

My eyes follow him, and I gulp, my stupid mouth, watering again.

God, does he have to be so hot and smell this good?

"Black is overrated. You'd look really good in some other colors like blue, or even red. It would bring out the chocolate in your eyes." He leans over, his head disappearing, and when he comes back up, he places a red, silky blindfold on my torso.

I try to angle my head up to see what he's going to do next.

He rests his hand on the bed, an inch away from my leg. I scoot away from him.

"Too close for your liking?" he taunts.

I swallow and keep my eyes opened; focused on him.

"Not much for chatting, huh?" He removes his hand and inches toward my upper body. "Well, maybe if I take away some of your other senses, you'll be more likely to talk to me."

I shake my head the second he picks up the blindfold and brings it toward my eyes.

"No, please, God, no!"

"Yes, please, God, yes," he mocks me, smirking.

He slips it over my eyes, and a moment later, I hear the unmistakable sound of a cap on a bottle being flipped open.

"What _is_ that?" I ask, my head lifting higher, my body perking up.

"I don't want your germs," he says. "It's hand sanitizer, since I'm definitely gonna have to touch you."

A soft, pleading whimper chokes its way out of my chest. "Please don't."

"Have no choice, now do I? You refused to talk to me," he replies.

"I can make your life miserable if you do this. It's not too late for you. You can let me go and leave without a trace. I won't report you," I say, my voice breaking.

"Oh, I know you can. I'm all too aware of what you did to your dad." He chuckles and his hand tickles up my leg.

"Oh, shit!" I murmur, my eyes closing beneath the blindfold.

"You really don't like thieves—and I get that. He was sponging off the top, but that's not my style." His hand glides up my thigh and when he gets to my panties, his fingers rim the bottom edge, and get dangerously close to my moistening pussy. "By the way, I always thought it was really dumb for a cop to do something like that. But not as stupid as you, keeping his handcuffs you used to restrain him when he attacked you." He tsks, and my heart goes cold.

"How can you know all this? I had those records sealed," I cry, pulling at my wrists, the metal biting into my flesh.

"You're not the only one that can hack into records."

"But why would you follow _my _records?"

His hand settles right above my pubic bone, and the tip of what feels like his thumb, works little circles right above my panty's waistline.

"You really don't remember me, do you?" He exhales like he's disgusted with me.

"What're you talking about?" My head shifts in his direction, and my neck is sore from holding my head up, so I finally rest it back on my pillow.

It can't be him . . . It just can't be! Christ, is it?

My heart pounds at the thought that it could be _him_.

I squirm, my panties even wetter now. _Edward . . . Touch me more. A little lower._

"God, Bella. I looked for you. For years—I was trying to find you. You disappeared when you were fifteen, and this was all the information I could find on you."

"Who. The. Hell. Are. You? And why do you think I should know you?" I grit, my heart pounding.

"Well, fuuuuuck," he groans. He shifts off the bed, the heat of his hand now leaving a cold, icy feeling in place over my undies and my heart drops.

"What the hell is happening?" I yank at my hands again, but once more, am unable to break free.

"Fan-fucking-tastic," he says. "Here, I thought you'd know as soon as I kissed you." His breath is suddenly wafting over my lips, and a flame shoots through my body, making my fingers and toes flex.

Soft lips mold into mine, and hands drive into my hair, fisting at the scalp.

My mouth drops open and his tongue delves inside.

And that's when it hits me. It's impossible—but it _is_ him.

His flavor assaults me.

When he pulls away, I moan, "Edward—I, God . . . It's _you_! Holy shit!"

"Finally. Thank God," he breathes.

"You were my first kiss," I blurt. And my first huge crush.

He chuckles. "You were mine, too."

"I was?" My voice cracks and goes hoarse.

"Why is that so shocking?"

"Uh, 'cause you're two years older than I am and you're gorgeous. Always have been, but I didn't remember your hair being this color. Did you dye it or something?" My lips press together as I recall a skinny boy, with his voice barely starting to lower and carrot-red hair, kissing me at a party after we'd both been drinking. Then I remember something else disturbing, and I gasp. "You're the reason . . ."

"The _reason_?"

"One of the reasons I'm paranoid about germs. You vomited all of over my feet right after you kissed me."

"First of all," some weight shifts on the bed, making me dip to my right, "_you_ kissed _me_. And second of all—if I'm the reason you're too scared to face a single virus," I snort at his choice of computer terminology, and he smacks my leg, "then you're to blame for me becoming a hacker, and the reason I started stealing."

"Oh, no . . . You can't blame me for those things."

The weight shifts once more, and his lips tickle at my ear. "Can't I? I first hacked into computers to find you, and I stole information for the exact same reason . . ." His teeth nip at my ear.

I shudder for a moment, but not because of the thought of bacteria, but because I like it. I like it a whole hell of a lot.

"And now that I have you, and know what you changed your name to—"

I gasp louder this time. "Goddammit, I changed it for a reason! You can't let anyone know."

"Who would I tell, Bella Blaaaack?" he drones.

"Fuck, you're doing this on purpose," I whimper, struggling once more to tear my hands free.

My wrists are getting raw.

"Doing what? And how fucked up is that you changed your name to that idiot boy you crushed on forever in school," he says. His fingers start at the hollow of my throat and walk their way down my center, toward my navel.

"Who? Wh-what're you talking about now?" My mind goes blank as one lone finger of his, swirls around my belly button.

"Jacob Black, that snotty kid that always treated you like shit—and you were always going on and on about how cute he was, and how smart he was, and I was always telling you what a dick he was."

Something wet drags up my ribs.

I jerk away from it, from the ticklish, sensation that makes my skin do funny things.

"I don't even remember that—I didn't even remember you, and I kissed you, and I was in lo—" I cut myself off and continue in a different direction. "I just like the color black. That's the only reason I chose that name."

"I like black, too . . . Mmm . . . A lot," he purrs, and then my black bra straps are teased down my shoulders.

"H-how did you get in here?"

"Where? In here?" he asks, and suddenly, he's cupping my groin.

"Jesus!" I yelp, and then whimper with a dying moan as my body begins to levitate off the bed, my back arching like the damned Lucky Charm's rainbow I study on my cereal box, every morning. "P-please. Mooore . . ."

Cool metal slips across my skin between my panties and my heated flesh. I exhale, and he's cut through my panties at my right hip and then at my left, and he snatches the fabric off my body. "The tighter, the better, I always say. I'm good at disappearing in cramped, warm places."

My thighs slam together and another pathetic, wallowing moan rips out of my chest.

"But you know all about tight, cramped, warm places, don't you, Bella?"

"Mmm . . . I . . . I-I d-doooon't know what you m-mean," I stammer.

His fingers wrap around my knees and part them slowly, but so powerfully, there's no way I can stop him. "Oh, don't lie to me. Tell me, or I'll stop."

"Okay, dammit. W-what do you want to know?" My breath catches in my throat as my mind goes blank.

"When you made a move on me so long ago, you and I were in a closet, and you pretended to be scared, until you had me backed up against the corner, where I couldn't escape, and that's when you kissed me. I had nowhere to go, no means of escape, and I knew you did it on purpose."

"That wasn't a question, and I didn't do th—"

"Oh, but you did, you naughty bitch," he coos, and then something warm, wet and stiff, rims my slit, making my legs shake and my heart pound so hard, I can barely hear what he's saying anymore.

"You wanted me to do more than kiss you, even back then, didn't you? You wanted my cock. You still do," he says.

"Yes, I mean n-no, I was a kiiid," I say, my legs shamelessly rolling open, splaying my body to him. My breasts jut forward, equally as obnoxious.

I can't see, so I have no idea if he's grossed out by my pubic hairs. I don't wax or shave down there. Women have it wrong. Those hairs keep things cleaner; more sanitary—keeps the germs away from the vagina. If I take them away, I could get a UTI, or some other hideous infection.

I bite my lip and try desperately to see out the bottom of the blindfold, but there's no way to see past it. It's like a huge, fucking blast shield over my face.

"You're a pervert, that's what you are. I saw some of the porn you had opened on your phone. Naked women tied up—" and hairless, unlike me "—and men ejaculating all over them." I want to say his come would be full of germs, but it's not true. I found out a long time ago there were antibacterial and antifungal properties in semen. I had to know because I wanted to give my ex-boyfriend, Tyler, a blowjob. Unfortunately, he stole one of my biggest ideas yet and took off, never to be found again before I ever got a chance to put my tongue on him down there.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you? Mmm . . . Yes, such a fucking tease—keeping these handcuffs in your nightstand drawer, right next to your bed, just waiting for me to come and use them on you."

The unmistakable sound of a zipper coming down has my breath caught in my throat and my fingernails digging into my palms. My head jerks toward him again.

"You're on the pill, too. I saw the opened packet in your drawer next to your cuffs." He yanks on my bindings. "Oh, fuck. You need to quit yanking like that." In the next breath, something soft is wrapped around my wrists, shoved in between my now raw flesh and the metal. "If you keep still, you'll be glad you did. You're gonna enjoy this almost as much I will."

I exhale and buck my hips, my legs flailing out.

He smacks my outer thigh, closest to him.

"Snnuuuuuuhhhhhhuhh," he inhales deeply, and my pubic hairs move with his deep inhalation.

"Fuck!" I whisper. He likes my curls. He just fucking inhaled them like they smelled better than cinnamon rolls baking in the oven. "Oh my God . . . More, please, Edward . . ." _Please, pretend I'm tasty like cinnamon rolls . . ._

Does he like cinnamon rolls? What if he thinks they're disgusting? But that's silly. Nothing smells or tastes better than them.

"Yeah, I love them, too, but no . . . You definitely smell and taste—" _liiiiiiick_ "—better, sweetheart. Though, a little cinnamon might be nice on those nipples."

Oh, God, I said that out loud? My face heats and my pussy spasms.

_Riiiiiiip._

The next thing I know, my bra has been shredded off me, most likely by the same metal implement that took away my panties.

Is he using a knife to dismantle my wardrobe? Is that safe? Did he clean it properly first? Knives can harbor a lot of germs . . .

"Do you know how fucking long I searched for you—and dreamed about this moment? The moment I could kiss you, and taste you and fucking devour every inch of you?" he growls.

A hot, wet line drags up my leg, and then I realize he's hovering over me, and his damp tip is moistening my body with his pre-come.

"Wouldn't want to leave behind any germs, now would we?" he taunts, and something even wetter than before, retraces the path his tip left behind on my body. His tongue? He lapped at his pre-come—removed it from my body?

Oh fuck, that's insanely hot. I think I say some more gibberish, begging him to touch me more, maybe I ask him to fuck me somewhere in there? I can't think straight, so who the hell knows what I've said.

His fingers caress my inner thighs and something wet works its way from my knee up to the edge of my outer labia.

"Oh, God, yes!" I rasp, sounding like the biggest whore ever. It's his mouth, and I know it because it's now settled on my left nipple. Oh dear Lord, that feels amazing! It flicks, it stabs and sucks, and I can only mewl like a whore that's turned into a cat in heat. "More, oh, fucking hell, that's goooood."

"I know you like it rough. You fisted my shirt and pulled my hair when we were only kids and you were about to ram your tongue down my throat when that closet door opened," he says.

"My leg," I say.

"You're what?" His hands land on my legs and it feels like he's inspecting for wounds while twisting and turning them.

"N-no," I waver in my speech, my tongue heavy and uncooperative and way too wet. "I wrapped my leg around your hip, and you had to push me off when we got caught."

"Oh, fuck, yeah, I forgot about that." He laughs and his warm palms slide up my thighs once more and massage right at the dip of my inner thighs. "Such a naughty bitch—trying to get laid. I probably would've knocked you up right then. God, I bet you left that night all wet and slippery—with that greedy little cunt of yours." Warm hands run all over my body. "Does your tight, pink cunt want me now?"

My stomach tightens each time his hands move lower, toward my pussy. "Yesss," I answer.

The next thing I know, his tongue parts my vulva's lips, and he simultaneously pinches my left nipple.

I'm a groaning, sweating mess, my body rippling off the bed.

"Oh . . . Please . . . God, Edward, I c-cant—"

His mouth stops, and a wisp of cool air blows over my embarrassingly wet labia. "Please, what? Hmm?" I hear his jaw snap shut and his breathing goes harsh. His hand drags off my breast and then clamps down on my thigh, yanking me open even wider. "You wanna know what you do to me? What you've always done to me?"

"Oh Christ!" I whimper as the initial brush of his cock up against my entrance, makes my pussy convulse.

"Say you thought of me, too. That you wanted me every day, and you were going mad not knowing where I was," he grits. His tip slips in and out, maddeningly, unhurriedly, and I am nothing but tendons and muscles, tightly coiled as a shriek wafts out of me. "Tell me something, or I'll stop. And you don't want me to stop, do you?"

"No, Jesus, God, no!" I rasp. "Yes, I thought of you—I t-tried—"

"Then tell me," he insists, his fingers digging into my thighs, and his fucking tease of a cock head, still barely licking at my hole.

"Okay, I did—I looked for you, too, at first, but it was too painful. I threw myself at you—like you said—in that closet. And I knew you didn't like me. I made you vomit—you thought I was that heinous. No boys liked me then, and it's no different now. You tolerated me," I blurt, and then suddenly, my chest caves in. I'm a torrent of tears, and gasping nightmares and fears. "But I want you."

"Shhhh . . . It's okay, Bella." My hands are freed, and I'm flung around his body. He kisses my hair, all over my face as he pulls the mask off, and I see the torment in his eyes as well. "I couldn't ever stop thinking about you. Finally, after searching so long, I convinced myself you were dead, and now to find out—" His neck snaps to the side and he tucks his head under my chin, holding himself to my chest as he rocks back and forth with me molded around him.

I stroke his back and the nape of his neck. "I'm sorry. Oh, God, so sorry . . ."

"Don't be," he says, muffled by my flesh he has gripped tightly up against his face.

I sigh and lean back 'til I'm lying down, taking him with me. There are soft, penitent kisses, rising up my neck, hands massaging into my breasts, and a chanting from him, that sounds similar to, "I found you—you're mine. I found you. God, I finally found you."

I kiss him wherever I can until his lips grow more urgent, and he finds a way to clasp my hands in his, stretch them out on the pillow above my head.

This time, when his mouth descends on mine, I can barely breathe; he overwhelms me.

My legs wrap around his waist, and he runs his length over my slickened clit, causing dirty, wired moans to rip out of me.

"God, that's beautiful," he says, nipping at my ear, his tongue flicking at the bottom.

"I never thought you'd ever want me," I confess. "I do remember you, but you're different . . ."

"You are, too. And my fucking God—you're Ides," he groans and his head tips back, exposing his straining neck to me.

I use the tip of my tongue to trace along his jugular, loving the feel of his hammering pulse on my mouth.

"Gotta have you—feel how hard you make me—how much I die to be with you," he says, and his hips jut forward, burying himself inside me in one swift move.

"Ahhhhhh fuuuuuck!" I grind through my teeth, gripping his hands tight and tilting my head to the side, nuzzling into his muscular forearm.

"Jesus—fucking Ides, it's you—I can't believe it," he says, his hips moving way too slowly.

"Pl-pluuuuheeeez move faster," I say, voice breaking and body trying to bend in half, simply to sink him deeper inside me, and hopefully get him to speed up.

He bites down the column of my neck. "No. I'm gonna savor every fucking moment."

"I need faster—harder . . . Or I'll break," I say, the words sticking to the back of my throat like his cock, stuck at my entrance once more.

His thrusts speed up, but they're shallow, unsatisfying.

"You're gonna kill me—stop fucking teasing," I say, clamping my fingers down so hard on his, I hope it hurts. My eyes blaze at him.

"Look at the way you think you can control this—" he stops altogether, and a shrill, feral sound, tears out of my throat and my eyes slide up in my head, that's now tipped back "—I've heard about Ides and _his_ control issues. But you're just a woman—a fucked woman, stuck under me, and I'm telling you—I was jealous; I wanted to be you. Be the big man every hacker everywhere talks about."

"No one's gonna ever know you did this to me—that we fucked like wild animals," I hiss, and bite the edge of his forearm.

He laughs, and it's dark and unsettling, and fuck—it impossibly turns me on even more.

"I don't care if anyone knows. I'll know. I'll wake up every day and know you burn for me. That you begged for my cock to be stuffed and rammed inside you so you could come all over it because it's all you want. Isn't it?" He inches inside me at an agonizing pace until he can go no further.

"Iiiiiyyyyyahhhhh!" I grunt with my whole insides tightening, my head turned away from him. I can't look at his heartbreakingly gorgeous face. I don't deserve to have him saying he wants me—that he looked for me and sounding like he's dying inside as he buries himself deep. "Fuck! Yes, okay—I want you so bad it aches deep inside me—places I didn't know existed." Tears roll down my cheeks. "Is that what you want to hear? That I've loved you for so long, I had to shove it out of my brain so I wouldn't go crazier than I already am? I never loved whatever kid that was you were talking about. I'm sure I said all that shit to make you jealous!"

"Finally! Jesus—woman, take me to my knees," he snarls. He lets go of one hand, only to put both of my wrists in one of his palms. His hand clamps down over them, keeping them secure. His free hand grips under my chin and he forces me to look at him. "I love you. Every day . . . every hour, and I'll be damned if I don't take what's fucking mine this instant. So, when I say I love you, and my cock's enveloped by your wet cunt, I expect you to come. Do you understand?"

"Oh, gaaaawd," I say in a sandpaper whisper and my pussy clenches down in response.

His eyes—they tell the truth. He really does have a claim on my body and soul, and he's trying to take my heart, too.

"That's better . . ." He keeps hold of my face with a rough grip while he kisses me delicately, and the contrast between the two—God, I fight off an agonized moan. His thick cock, sliding in and out of my very wet hole, has my eyes heavy and my heart pounding, making it even harder to keep from panting out his name—giving him the satisfaction that he does own every bit of me.

"Shit, you feel too good to be real. You're so tight, all for me," he says. He kisses my nose; slides his forehead across mine and wears this look, like all his concentration is on me.

His motions are quick, deep, and oh, so, fucking good, I want more. I do want to come, but I've never done it merely from penetration.

"I know you want me to come on you, but I . . . It's not that simple," I tell him.

"You don't think I know how to make you come? Goddammit, woman, I won't be leaving here tonight until you've creamed my cock hard," he says. Then he lets go of my jaw, his mouth latches onto mine and his tongue invades my mouth and my thoughts center completely on everything he's doing to me—the slight twinge of pain in my wrists from those damned cuffs I'd been wearing. The tingle in my clit as his pubic mound presses into it when he angles his hips really far back before driving into me once more. The way he stares in my eyes, like he really means it—like I'm the whole world to him.

His free hand roams down my body, pinching here and there as he goes, and it isn't until he's high up on my inner thigh, pinching there, and he's back to shallow pumping with his amazing dick, that I about explode into orgasm.

"Fuck, Jesus, God!" I yelp.

"That's a lot of religion for our first time. Wanna try that again. I wanna hear my name somewhere in there," he taunts, and then he pulls out completely, pinches my clit, and I scream.

I drop to the bed, my shoulder blades almost touching each other, and I fight for air.

"Nope—still not getting it right. Call my name, or I won't let you come—and I can tell you're really fucking close. Now, show me how much you want me," he insists.

He pinches again, and this time, he rolls it, and God, I have no idea what I say, but I think his name is there somewhere inside, along with his fingers now inside me, probing and touching spots that make me scream even louder.

"The neighbors can't hear you, Bella. Not loud enough. I need more. I need it all—give me your fucking come—give me your fucking cunt—soak my hand," he says, his teeth scraping across my collar bone.

He's everywhere, and I'm still unable to grab at him with my hands, since he has them tightly secured.

_Swwwiiiiip . . . Swwwwiiiiip . . . Swwwwiiiiiip . . ._

"Oh, my. God." I writhe and squirm at the sounds of his hand, plunging into a very wet cunt, supplied by me, and it makes me try to get away. I'm restless. I'm frustrated. I want to come—I do, but I don't really know how to do it this way.

"Fuck, I c-c-can't dooo this," I cry out, my hips pulling away from him.

Tyler told me. He said I was a lousy lay, and that I had no idea how to pleasure a man, even when there wasn't much to it. He could get hard easily, but then I never knew what to do to keep him that way. That's why I was trying to figure out how to perform oral on him. And thusly, became obsessed with a fresh, clean as possible, oral cavity. I didn't want to give him my germs. There are certain things I didn't want to share him.

But fuck . . . With Edward? I want to share everything.

And I don't even know why.

Tyler wanted me to participate, but I just couldn't. I'd shut down. I'd get shy. I wasn't good at dirty talking or stroking his ego, or even loving on his tiny dick for that matter.

But here, Edward's controlling it all. He isn't asking me to do anything but respond to what he's doing to me, and I'm almost shutting down.

"Listen to me—you're mine. I control your body. You'll come because I'm telling you to, understand?" He bites between my hip bone and my belly button.

"Y-yessss," I hiss on a breathless exhale.

"And when I say you're mine, you believe it."

I nod, and my lower lip juts out, tears gathering at the corners of my eyes.

"You're so fucking sexy—I can barely keep from coming all over you," he says.

"Really?" I ask, my voice going up an octave.

He slaps my pussy, and a smile explodes out of me.

"Such a dirty bitch. You like it rough—just like me. Next time I'm bringing my ropes," he taunts.

"If you can find a way to breach my security after I tighten it up," I quip, suddenly feeling brave.

"Oh, now that's the kinda nasty talk I need," he says, then he crawls over me, straddles me, and his tip circles my clit.

I close my eyes and breathe hard, soaking up the sensation.

"Tell me what you'll do to try to keep me out, Ides," he purrs.

"I'll . . ." It's hard to concentrate. I lick my lips and blow out. "I'll make sure your fingerprints are scanned in, so my computer grid knows to look for you."

He leans over and licks at my neck. I automatically turn it, and realize he's nibbling where my chip is.

There's an odd buzzing sensation at that spot, and my head is foggy—floating.

"And _then_ . . . ?" he coos.

I take a deep breath and try to clear my head of what he's doing to my clit. "And then I'll make sure I also have video footage of you here in my room, so the computer knows to look for your build, your height . . ." I trail off as he deliberately abrades my skin at the same location in my neck where the chip is—he does it with the stubble on his chin.

"And what else? Tell me more; you've got me so fucking hard for you and your dirty talk," he says, now sucking at my neck and really hitting my clit hard with his dick.

"I . . . Well, I . . . Uhhhhh," I ramble, sucking in a tight gust of air.

His hands shove up into my hair, and angle my head as far away from him as possible. There's a sting at my neck, a jerking sensation, and then he's sucking really hard in that spot. It tingles, it throbs, and there's something sticky swiping over it now.

"You won't get in," I say.

His lips let go with a popping sound.

"You think so, huh?"

And suddenly, he's back inside me, fucking me so hard the bed's creaking.

All I can do is hold onto his arms, and kiss his chest, and cry out for more.

His tongue makes this odd clicking sound, and then he swallows hard.

He chuckles, and right when I'm about to ask him what's so funny, he leans down, his mouth hovering above mine, "You're gonna come now because I can't fucking wait any longer."

He kisses me, deep and rough, and one hand wraps around my waist, pulling my hips up into his, and his other hand reaches down, handling my clit roughly, and right when I think I'll die, he sucks my tongue hard into his mouth, and something sharp and metallic slices the edge of my tongue.

My chip!

When I chase it with my tongue, he pulls away. "It's mine," he growls. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, and then he swallows it down.

Fuck! My eyes double in size, they're so wide.

He slams himself inside me, pinches my clit so hard, I can't breathe, yet I manage an incoherent scream. "Edwaaaard, fuuuuuck!"

"Yes, fuck, yes! Oh, Ch-christ, Bellaaaa," he moans and convulses above me. His eyes burn into me with his green, erotic fire.

He squirts inside me, and his thrusts grow sloppy, and a huge mess of both of our fluids, roll down my thighs.

I want to wiggle away, get something to sanitize myself, until he says, "Computer, lock the door."

"Fuck. Me." I freeze.

The doors lock, he laughs low and deep in the back of his throat.

"Not bad for a first time, but I think we can both do better," he says.

"I hate you," I say. My heart rate still thrums heavy and makes my pussy throb while he maintains his position inside me.

"No, you love me. And I'm yours. I have your chip and your heart." He smiles with a lazy, pleased grin.

I look away, my body heating once more from that goddamn look he gives me. "God . . . I'm gonna need a lot of fresh hand sanitizer with you around . . ."

"No fucking doubt."

**A/N:**

**Thank you to my beta, Sunflower Fanfiction and to my prereaders: readingmama, boo1414, and Anakinsmom. They were all a tremendous help, and some of them had me laughing so hard, I was almost snorting at their feedback!**

**Also, the word prompt used for this chapter was fresh. I think you'll spot it pretty easily since it's right here at the end.**

**This will be a multi-chapter fic. I've already written the entire story and will be posting two chapters per week. Thank you to Dirty Cheeky Monkeys for asking me to submit something for their Squeeze My Lemon segment. I'd actually planned this story out a while back and had written out the first chapter (what was the first third of this current chapter), but it seems I needed the added motivation to dust it off and turn it into a fan fic.**

**Also, one of my fave fan fic stories inspired this one. It's called Ride by Kris Salvador. Look it up. It's amazing and hot, hot, hot!**

**Next chapter will be up on Monday! Enjoy your weekend.**

**Thank you for reading . . .**

**Chanse Lowell**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2: Tracing and Erasing**

_EPOV_

I stand and Bella stares at me.

"You're leaving?" she asks, her voice flying higher than my dick, pointed straight up.

"Well, seeing as how you didn't remember who I was when you saw my name earlier tonight," I say, pretending to be hurt by her lack of memory.

"You fucker—you changed your name, too, Edward _Masen_," she says. "What kind of stupid, made-up name is Cullen, anyway? No wonder I couldn't find you either."

"Just following your lead."

"Puhlease!" She rolls her eyes and clucks her tongue.

"Most successful thieves don't go around sharing their fingerprints, DNA and identity," I remind her.

"Yet you just came inside me, you stupid bastard." She smirks.

"Yeah, and you wiped my fingerprints off your car. I'd say that makes us about on par." I run my fingers through my sweat dampened hair.

I wave goodbye.

"You really are leaving? God, this was pathetic as far as dates go. You didn't even buy me dinner, and I'm starved." She glances at my dick then averts her eyes, blushing a little.

"Yeah, I'm _going_. I'd better, before I take this further. Your dirty mouth and whorish looks are making me leak." And I've got a chip I need to deal with, along with a few other items.

"Fine. Lock the door on the way out, junior," she says.

I chuckle. "Yes, ma'am. Anything else I should do on my way out?"

"Fuck yourself. How about that," she says, flipping me off.

Her tits bounce when she shoves her finger in the air.

I stare at them and twitch. "Why should I when I have easy access now with you?" I rub my stomach.

She keeps her bird at attention, pointed at me. "You really are an asshole."

"You have quite a way with words, Ides. No wonder you stay out of the public eye." I lean over, pat her foot, and she promptly jerks it away. "I'll see you again soon."

"No, you fucking won't. This was a one-time slipup. I already told you," she exhales in a rush, "I'll be tightening up security. You won't be getting back in."

"God, woman—no more dirty talk. Foreplay's over," I say, grab my clothes and leave the room before I jump her again.

I roam out to her garage and pull the chip out of my pocket. A laugh bubbles up out of my throat when I recall the way she looked when she thought I swallowed it. How insane does she think I am? And how stupid would that be? I hate vomiting. She should know that. Plus, those motherfuckers are sharp on the edges, and I'm not about to slice up my throat, stomach and intestines to get a chip back up so I can be in and out of her house at will.

I love her, but, fuck, I'm not deranged.

I palm it and slip my phone out and hook it right into the wiring. Within a second, I've dialed up her car.

I throw my clothes on and jump inside. "Garage open," I say.

The garage door predictably retracts, and I drive off without looking back.

"See ya soon," I murmur and smile.

She really is a sexy little bitch.

Instead of driving the car to the shop, I bring it to Emmett's.

When I pull up in his driveway, he texts me, asking what's going on.

**Open the garage now, fucker. I've got the car.**

The door raises, and once I'm inside, I turn the car off and open the car door.

"Holy fuck! How'd you get this?" he asks.

"Well, after I spoke to her, she willingly gave it to me," I answer.

"She did not. I mean, I had to copy the frequency of her chip so I could hot-wire her car that quickly. The temporary connection would be broken by now, and with what she went through to get her car back, there's no way she just gave it to you." He stares at me like he's looking at a ghost. "Holy shit. You fucked her, didn't you? Goddamn." He chokes on his breath and cracks a crooked smile.

"Get that fucking smug look off your face. I said I talked to her, and that's all you need to know. And I got this car without having to hot-wire it." I tip my chin at the car as I step out.

"Well, fuck . . ." he breathes, his eyes wide. He licks his lips as he stares at the car.

"Do whatever you want with it. I don't need the money on this one, but I get any of her belongings that are in the vehicle." I step to the back door, open it and grab the prize.

"What the hell is that?"

"Nothing important. I had it in my pocket earlier, and set it in the backseat before taking her car for a spin." I shove what looks like a remote into my pocket.

"Whatever, dude. I don't want to know what the fuck is going on with you anyway." He rolls his shoulders and almost salivates over the car, running his fingers over the hood.

"Hold on," I say, and drift to the license plate in the back. I remove the second tracker I placed there earlier, the one she was unaware of. I show it to him and smirk. "Stupid bitch didn't have any clue of how I found her."

"How many of those did you put on her car?"

"Three. She got the first one, the second one I think fell off, but this one stayed right where I put it." I kiss it and shove it in my other pocket.

He bursts out laughing. "You two were fucking made for each other."

"Now will you say it?"

"Nope," he says, popping his P. "She's still slicker than you, and you know it."

"Fuck. You. And. Her."

"I'm thinking you already fucked _her_, but I'm not available—sorry," he says, snickering.

I groan and roll my eyes. Why do I put up with him and his shit?

"Any color but purple. She likes that shit." I pat the back window and smile.

"Why does it matter what she thinks? It's not like she's ever gonna see it again." He eyes me like I'm holding out on him.

I shrug. We both know she'll find this car and get it back. The new owner'll have one of hell of a shock when that little girl comes and takes it back.

I step inside his house and straight away make myself something to eat while I listen for the sounds of him in his garage, already stripping down the car of any identifying marks that say it was hers.

After I've had a beer, and sat down, I rifle through her chip on my phone.

"Nice," I say. I've tapped into her security cameras and she's still in bed.

Appears to be touching herself with her eyes closed.

"Oh, God . . . Oh my fucking God," she moans.

"Shit," I rasp. I don't think I'll be able to wait until I'd originally planned before breaking back in.

She's got something I need—well, her pussy, too—but dammit. This is fucking hot.

She pulls out a vibrator from her side table drawer, clicks it on, and instead of predictably rubbing it across her clit, licks it and then runs it over her nipples until they're really hard and prominent.

Her breathing goes ragged and she makes these amazing, gasping sounds like she's choking on my cock as I shove it in her mouth.

"Oh, you naughty bitch—trying to kill me." I zoom in on her face. Yes, her face—because, fuck, she looks about ready to come. And she has the most amazing orgasm expression and sounds I've ever seen and heard.

I could seriously get addicted to watching this kind of porn of her regularly.

"Edward—fuuuck—I know you're watching," she groans, and suddenly, her eyes open, and she stares at one of the cameras like she's staring straight at me.

"Fucking bitch," I say, chuckling. God, she's too much.

"Do I have your attention now? You missed a few spots on me," she says. She points at her tits and rubs the vibrator all over them some more, and her eyelids go heavy. "Mmm . . . I'm wet, but not because of you."

I laugh harder, my head tipped back for a second.

"What else?" I ask her, knowing she can't hear me, but I can't stop myself from saying that shit out loud.

"That mouth is dirty. I know it is, but my cunt isn't." She leans over, pulls out a dildo from her drawer, inserts it in her pussy, pumps it a few times then removes it.

The tip goes straight to her mouth and hovers an inch away from her lips. "Should I lick it? Would you like that? It's clean. No germs. I can taste it, and tell you how clean my juices are . . . You'd like that, wouldn't you? Would it make you drip? Oh God, wait—" she sits up suddenly "—your come is still inside me. Supposedly semen's clean too, but how do I know you haven't had your pathetic dick in every slut around town? How do I know you haven't fucked every thief with ovaries in this state?" She drops the dildo, stands up on the bed, and flips me off with both fingers. A second later, she's jumping on the bed, shaking her head like a wild woman. "Fuck you. Yeah, you have my chip. It's gonna take me five minutes to deactivate it, you son of a bitch. So suck on that."

She jumps off the bed, runs through the house naked, and before she can sit her ass down in her office chair, I'm copying codes from the chip into a drop box account I have online.

The faster I go, the heavier I breathe. I sound like an obscene caller.

"Tell your friend, Fat Fingers, I said hello, and I'm still better than you," she says, smiling and seated at her computer desk in her office. Two minutes later, she gets up, crawls onto the desk, rubs her right nipple over a camera lens and then pretends to lick it. "Bye, bye, Vapor."

She jumps back down and the screen goes dead. The chip's deactivated.

"Fuck, I love this woman," I say, sliding my phone back into my pocket.

Emmett steps inside, with silver spray paint in patches on his arms. "God, you've got it bad. Go get her, man."

"Tonight. I want her asleep before I go back in there."

"How're ya gettin' in?" His shoulders sag and he looks tired while he wears a lazy grin. He loves prepping cars for the resale.

"The rocket. Already lowered it down her chimney today before I broke in," I tell him.

I go and take a seat on his couch, and then sprawl out, ready to take a nap.

"No shit? That piece of junk actually worked?" He goes to the fridge and pulls out a beer.

"I told you it would," I say when he rejoins me.

He pops open the tab and takes a swig. "It looked like a stupid old rock."

"It's not a rock, but that's the point. No one's going to notice a harmless little rock-like item at the bottom of their fireplace. It glitches out her security system whenever I put in the proper code with my phone."

He smiles and stares at the floor like there's a joke going on in his head. "Every perv's dream," he says. "How long is the window?"

"Less than two minutes, so I have to pick the locks fast." I yawn and stretch out.

"Damn . . ."

"Damn is right. It almost took me that long to get through all six of her locks." I fold my arms over my chest. Why does he keep it so fucking cold in here? "You got a blanket?"

"I'm not your fucking maid. _I_ live here, and I just help you lift cars, that's as far as it goes." He leans back and takes another sip of his beer.

"Yeah, about that . . ." I blow out, considering how to frame this wording best. "I'm out of that business now. This was my last car heist."

"Since when?" he asks, his voice raising.

"Since now."

"Going all straight and pansy-assed because of Ides?"

"No, _Bella_ would never ask me to stop, and I would never do it for that reason." I toe my boots off and they slip over the edge of the couch and land with a thud.

"Then why?"

"I don't need the money."

"Neither do I." He wipes the back of his hand over his sweaty forehead.

Is he fucking kidding me? I keep waiting for a penguin to spring out from behind the couch. I can practically see my breath, it's that cold in here and he's sweating?

"Then why the fuck are you still doing it?" I ask him.

"Why not? I love it. The rush—the adrenaline—the heat of it. I love every goddamn second of it. It's worth it—all of it."

I sigh. "Not to me it isn't. I'm getting too old to do this anymore. And I've moved on to other things." I flip my wrist at his laptop.

"Oh, I get it now. You wanna be her. You've always wanted that, and now that you've actually met Ides—"

"Bella," I correct him.

"What the fuck ever—" he groans "—you can't stand it to know she's not wasting her time on anything other than her fucked up inventions."

"I thought you loved the shit she comes up with. You're her biggest fan," I tease him.

"Fuck you. I know genius when I see it, but I don't wanna be her. I've got standards." He chugs the rest of his beer and then wipes his mouth with the same back of his hand that he used to smear the sweat off his head with.

I smirk. She's a germaphobe. This shit would tear her up. God, I'd love to watch her reactions with simple things like a pet shedding on her shoes or even bringing her to the grocery store and watch her freak out at people touching the produce she's about to buy.

"Standards? Like what? The girl has to have size C cups or larger?" I huff a laugh.

"Yeah, there is _that_, and she's barely got anything up top, but that's not what I'm talkin' about," he answers.

"Then what? Please fucking get to a goddamn point before she hacks into the Pentagon and shoots a death laser at me and fries off my balls." I roll my eyes.

"I'm talking about what I steal. I take cars—those are easily replaced. So the owner's wheels are gone—boo fucking hoo. You start messing with this bitch, and I guarantee you'll be stealing her ideas, just like her dick of a father did." He stares at me like he's her big brother—giving me the lecture about how if I touch her—though it's admittedly too late for that—he'll castrate me and then give me a lobotomy. "And don't even pretend like you believe what the rest of the public does—that he was merely skimming off the top of her accounts."

"I'm not gonna pretend anything, and I'm not gonna steal her ideas either. I don't need them," I say. I turn over on my side and snuggle into his couch.

God, her dad was the biggest douche ever. Stealing her invention ideas before they were completed and selling them to the highest bidders. No wonder she set him up and had him taken away to jail.

"You already did, ya lying sack. I know that remote gizmo you took from her car was _not _yours. You don't come up with stuff like that. It's not your thing," he replies, his eyes moving to the bulge in my pocket.

"Fuck you and your know-it-all attitude. You don't know what I mess with on my own." I don't share that shit with him.

"Jasper tells me what you guys get up to, and most of it doesn't interest me, but this—" once more he eyes the gadget stuffed in my pocket "—you know that shit's hardcore and worth a fucking ton if she came after us with a gun."

"Whatever." I close my eyes and tune him out.

A few seconds later, his foot hits the couch, rocking me so hard I almost roll off.

"Cut it out!" I snap, my eyes flying open.

"I'm not kidding, man. This is serious. She's going to come after you. She couldn't have wanted her car back that badly that she'd risk her life for it. She's smarter than that and she's worth millions. She could easily replace that car. This," he points at my pocket, "is what she was after. You better give it back before she really sends every goddamn FBI agent that ever lived after you. She won't be as nice to you as she was to her dad."

I smile. "You really think she'd do that? She got rid of my fingerprint on her car that I left there on purpose, hoping that bitch would find the car and try to find me," I blurt.

"You sleazy motherfucker!" He steps back and looks at me like I'm an ogre, his eyes wide. His shoulders hunch up. "You set this whole thing up. You knew that was her all along."

I sit up and rub the back of my neck. "What're you talking about?" I swing my legs around so I'm facing him, stare at the ground and blink slowly.

"This is the girl you had a massive crush on in high school that you've told me about multiple times, isn't it? You finally found her, and instead of telling me what was really going on, you acted like this was a random carjacking."

"I didn't know," I mumble.

"What's that? Couldn't hear you lie through your teeth—which you're lucky I haven't kicked out of your face." He walks away, but before he leaves, I clear my throat.

"I'm sorry."

"Yeah, I'll bet you are. And, yeah—I'm done working with you, too, you dickhead."

He slams the door that leads into the garage. I pull my shoes back on and heave my ass up off his couch.

"God, that was fun." I drag my body over to his fridge; dig my keys out of the coffee can he stashes on top, then slip out his back door, taking my motorcycle I store here when we're running weekend car heists, and take off down the road.

I sigh and wonder how the hell I botched that all up so badly with Emmett. Jasper's going to have my ass, if and when, I ever go home.

**A/N:**

**Come follow me on Twitter: ****ChanseLowell or on facebook: http (colon) #! .1 **

**I post teasers for the next chapter on my facebook group. Come join us if you want more: http (colon) #!/groups/157946840950900/ (or you can look for links in my profile)**

**Thank you to my two betas. They're amazing: Sunflower Fanfiction and Anakin Smom.**

**I appreciate all the reviews and for anyone pimping this little fic out. Mwah! Next update is this Friday. It's all ready to go!**

**Chanse**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3: Ode to Purity**

_BPOV_

"That asshole should've been a doctor," I tell Riot over speaker phone.

"Why would you say that?"

"Because he sliced my neck open with the precision of a robot in less time than it takes me to blink, and then put some kind of clear tape over the wound that was sticky and dried within seconds. I think it has some kind of super glue on it or some shit," I answer.

"Well, super glue's what hospitals use in place of stitches nowadays, unless they absolutely have to use sutures, then—"

"Christ! Is that sanitary?" I gulp.

"It is," he assures me.

"I hope so. I don't want to have to scrub that spot. It stings like a fucking viper bite."

"Don't you mean Vapor bite?" He chuckles.

"Why do I keep you around? I do _not_ need a court jester," I say, pulling out the rubbing alcohol and paper towels.

I head out to my car, only to find it missing. "Son of a bitch!" I yell.

"Calm down! What now?"

"He stole my car and my fucking prototype! Sue that motherfucking ball-less shit right now!"

"I'm your lawyer, but I—"

"Now. N. O. W. Not next week, now!" I say, slumping down on my buffed, sparkly garage floor.

It's more slippery than my shower wall.

"I'll get the process going, but you're already due in court this week," he reminds me.

I set the phone next to me, laying it on top of the paper towels. "What for?" I bang the back of my head into the wall repeatedly.

"For that prototype you've now lost possession of."

"Why? How does anyone even know about it? This was a private drafted up deal with—"

"I know, I know," he huffs. "But you know this stuff never stays secret for long. They're citing all sorts of broken laws on this one."

"Cover it for me." I stop hitting my head and rest my arms on my knees then take a few deep breaths. My feet start to slip a little on the shiny, smooth surface.

He pauses. "You know I would if I could, but this time they're demanding the CEO of the company, and that's you."

"Uuuuungaaaawd! I can't take it—you know I'll flip out if I have to step in there. Criminals pass through that place. And what are the chances a criminal actually ever washes his hands after he takes a trip to the little boys' room?"

"Wear gloves. You'll be fine."

"You better bring me over all the ingredients to make my hand sanitizer."

He laughs. "That sounds like you actually want me to come over; almost like a date."

I roll my eyes. He flirts. Boy, does he fucking ever, but I'm not interested, and I've told him this a million times. "I don't date. I don't act like a girl. I just need my shit so I can be prepared and not have an episode."

"You haven't had an episode in over two years."

"And the last time I did was . . ." I trail off.

"Oh . . . I wasn't thinking . . ."

"Yeah—my dad's lawsuit—in court. The bailiff grabbed my arm when I started shouting, and he'd just licked his fingers after he ate a fucking sandwich. It was revolting."

"Yeah, but you didn't have to try to shove his nose up into his brain. That was overkill, hon." He chuckles.

"Whatever you want to call it—the man was a Neanderthal and probably uses his palm in place of toilet paper when he soils himself. I about died that day," I remind him.

"I know. I had to carry you to your car."

I can hear the satisfaction and a little bit of a seductive tone in his voice.

"Don't remind me," I groan and try to slide my butt closer to the wall since I'm slowly sliding away from it.

"Hey, Bella . . ."

"Yeah?"

"We're friends, right?"

I shift away from my phone. The tone of his voice—I don't like it.

"Yeah. We've been friends for a long time." He's my only friend, but I don't tell him that because he's my lawyer and I pay him to handle shit he shouldn't have to, but he does it because . . . Well, dammit, I know he does it because he's interested in me. "And as your friend, are you ever going to let me help you with your marketing? Because you honestly suck at it, and it bugs the shit out of me. You're smart. Your inventions are amazing."

"Not as good as yours," he says.

"Some are right up there. They just need a little more—"

"_You_," he interjects, filling in the end of my statement for me.

"I was going to say a little more of the Chad Thayer mark, and then they'll be ready."

"I hacked into your computer," he suddenly confesses.

"I know."

"Yesterday," he mutters.

"I _know_."

"How?"

"Because I monitor everything you do. I have to make sure you're not stealing from me." And he didn't see anything on my hard drive I didn't want him to. It was fine.

The line goes quiet, and then there's the sound of wheels squeaking from his office chair.

"You don't trust me?" His voice breaks.

"I trust you more than anybody. I don't trust God or any of the monkeys he turned into humans. It has nothing to do with you. I'm a sick, freak—you know this."

"You're not a freak," he says with a slight whiny edge to his voice.

I get up, grab the rubbing alcohol and the paper towel and start cleaning the door knob leading into the house since I don't have a car to detail and sterilize.

I snort. "_Yeah_? What do you call a woman that was once thrown up on then spiraled out of control by turning into a certifiable hermit with extreme mysophobia?"

"I call her brilliant, and at least that title has a nice ring to it," he offers.

"I'd rather be the typical, fat gamer-chick that complains about her cankles and uses pink tanks in her games to destroy men's egos halfway across the world," I say. The knob squeaks as I buff it to a ridiculous shine.

I stare at my arm. I'm not even cool enough to get over my fear of germs to get a tattoo. How pitiful is that?

When I'm done cleaning the knob, I lean over, grab my phone and step inside the house and find the next door knob to antagonize.

"Being fat's no joke," he says, his voice tight like he's speaking through a clenched jaw.

"I never said it was."

"It took me over a year to lose all that weight."

"And you look great. All your time at the gym has paid off." I sigh. "I wasn't referring to you anyway." I scrub harder on the shiny metal. "Look, you know I'm awful at holding any kind of real conversations . . ."

"You're fine. It's me. I just get . . . sensitive sometimes."

"You're not sensitive. You put up with all my brusqueness and all my quirks. I love that about you."

"You said _love_," he says all breathless.

"Okay, hanging up now—talk to you again later. Get me out of the court hearing if you can."

"Can't do it."

"Bye, Riot. Have a fun day and do an extra set of crunches just for me—curse my name while you do it." I end the call, and make my way through the house for the next hour, polishing each knob in my house until I can't take the smell of the alcohol's fumes any longer.

Damn, I need more rubbing alcohol . . . I'll make sure Riot gets a lot more than the usual amount with my supplies.

.

.

.

I stir from a dead sleep as something warm slaps softly up against my cheek.

"Go away," I mumble and turn over.

"Why should I?"

I gasp, and right before I can sit up and do anything at all, ropes are twisted around my wrists, and I'm once again, secured to my iron headboard.

"Shit! _You_ again? I thought I wiped your germs off the island," I huff.

"Lights," he says, and somehow, they turn on.

"I deactivated that chip," I tell him.

"I know. I reactivated it. Good, right? C'mon, you can tell me. _Who's a good little Vapor?_" he asks, using a baby-talk voice.

"You know, I'd flip you off, but some asshole's too afraid of me to let me have the use of my fingers."

He chuckles and rubs his hand over his dick, sticking out of his pants, tall, proud and bare.

It is very impressive, but I'd never tell _him_ that. He'd probably do something hideous like make a five foot marble statue of it and place it in my front yard for all to see.

Birds might nest there. Ewwww!

"Nice wardrobe—what're you supposed to be, a thief, or something?" He's dressed all in black, and fuck, he looks tastier than my Lucky Charms.

"No. I'm supposed to be the man you want to suck off." He climbs onto the bed, straddles me, and when I'm about to knee the back of his balls, he ducks to the side. "Uh, uh, uh . . . I have enough rope to tie those ankles down as well."

I glare at him.

"Now, lesson number one." He climbs back over me and tips my chin up. "Balls—go here." He drags a finger across my right palm. "Dick—here." He runs his finger across my lips. "Eyes—here." He points at my eyes and then his. "Questions?"

"Unless you've got the most elastic nuts on the planet, I don't see how I'm supposed to hold them and cup them and whisper sweet nothings to them with my fingertips while they're tied up over here above my head." My eyes jerk up to my hands.

"I'll release you, if you do something to earn it first."

I groan and it comes straight out of the pit of my stomach. "What now? You break into my house because obviously, the Oprah rerun tonight was boring as shit, and expect me to do something for you? You're nuttier than I am."

"No fucking doubt." He licks his lips and starts pulling my pajama pants off.

"I thought I was using my mouth on you," I remind him.

"I like to keep my options open. As a criminal, I have to be flexible."

"That'll be a big bonus to you when you're in prison and Paco needs you to be his bitch after his afternoon siesta," I say.

He laughs, but it's hard and biting in sound.

"Why don't I practice on you right now. I'll be Paco, and you be my nasty bitch, since I know you're good at it," he grits. "And I'm not averse to anal. Not at all." His eyes twinkle with mischief, the twisted fucker.

"What the fuck did I ever do to you? Piss on your sombrero?" My fingers flex.

"Something like that." He slides my pants the rest of the way off, and smirks when he sees I lack panties.

"Wash day," I say, deadpan.

"I'll bring my laundry over later, and we can do a load together—you know, conserve water since there's a drought."

"Listen, just 'cause you can't get a pussy wet around here, does _not _mean the rest of us are experiencing droughts." I sigh like I'm bored.

"Oh, yeah? And how many dicks does this lovely, tight little pussy entertain?" He sprawls out over my legs, effectively trapping them and swirls the tip of his pinky finger around through my pubes like he's doodling there and spreading the hairs out in an artistic pattern.

"Enough that I don't feel like I have to break into someone's house and tie them up." I yawn.

He bites his lower lip so hard, it's the most erotic, damned dirty thing I've ever seen. My God, those teeth—fucking heaven and earth.

"I don't have to do that either, but someone's been a naughty girl and needs to be punished."

"Why? Because I turned my chip off and said I'd up the security?"

"No, because you touched what was mine today to get my attention. You got it. I'm here. You wanted more, and I'm gonna provide it."

"What is your problem, really? Chip envy? Too many mojitos at lunch today with your Fat Finger friend? Did he decide he was straight after all?" I grin.

"Such a mouth. I know it's gotta be good for something other than spouting shit, and since it likes being so dirty . . ." He slides up my body, and before I know it, he's got his hands boxed around my ears and somehow, he's got my head tipped back in such a way, it forces my jaw to drop open.

"Suck it. Suck it and I'll tell you a little bedtime story I think you'll like."

I whisper a, "Fuck you!" right as the meatus passes over my lips and lands on my tongue.

I want to gag and scream, "Germs!" but I can't. And really—I don't want to.

My tongue wraps around the shaft, and as his head pushes in, my insides relax in a way I rarely experience.

Just like when he had sex with me last time—my fears are almost completely obliterated.

I'm doing what I would consider the most disgusting of deeds in terms of bacteria, viruses, and God knows what else, but I can't stop.

I pull at the ropes on my wrists, and he moans as I suck forcefully at his corona when he retreats.

"God, that's good," he says, shifting his weight so he's really jamming it straight into my mouth. "Knew that dirty mouth would fucking love my cock."

I whimper and shift as well, but I rock from side to side, trying to get closer.

"Listen to my story because I'm only sharing it once." He slides with ease; slippery inside my watering mouth.

The taste's not really pleasant—he's no Lucky Charm's—but there's something about the tanginess, and pungent flavor of him, I adore.

And I'm doing it. I'm really giving a man fellatio, and I'm not awful at it like I feared.

He seems to like it. He's still hard, and he's made a few sounds of approval.

I flex my right hand, hoping he'll release it, since I actually do want to cup his balls and feel the weight of it in my hands.

"There was this girl—this brilliant girl, two years younger than me, and other guys liked her as much as I did, but she intimidated them."

My eyes light up. He's talking about me?

"Mmffffuubba taaamaa gah," I say.

"Don't talk with your mouth full—fucking rude," he says, smacking my cheek, but it's so light and playful, it makes me smile and want to do it again.

"I didn't let that get in the way though. I studied with her after school, got to know her, and she was as beautiful as she was smart, but she liked some jackass named Jacob. Well, now you and I know she didn't really like him. She used that poor prick to tease the boy she really had feelings for—_me_. And all the while, I was pining away for her. Well, I got her drunk at a party, really fucking drunk. And in the process, I wasn't paying attention to how much I was drinking either, but I was still in control, so it still seemed like everything was going well."

I inhale through my nose and his curly hairs actually tickle my nostrils. My face scrunches up.

He pulls out for a second. "You okay?"

"Itchy nose," I say.

It's absurd, but he scratches it for me, and after I thank him, he plunges his cock back inside my mouth like this is all commonplace.

I giggle around his girth and don't care if it's rude to laugh with a mouthful.

"Where was I? Oh yeah. The best part—she pretends to be playing games with me, something stupid like Truth or Dare, and dares me to get in a closet with her. I of course can't back down now. I'd be a pussy if I did. So, I go into that closet, even if the dark does scare me. She touches me, she whispers something cute in my ear, and before I know it—_wham_! She's got me up against the wall." He pushes his dick really deep to the back of my throat, and my uvula does not like it at all. It protests, and I gag a little. Instead of pulling out, he pushes deeper. "I'm nervous, so nervous in that closet that I'm nauseous, but she kisses me, and it's so good, I come in my pants. To make matters worse, Jacob opens that closet, sees the wet spot on my poor boy's pants and says something about it—about both my lack of money and lack of control. My stomach lurches, and I vomit all over the place, including on her shoes."

His dick makes short, punishing jabs into my throat, and I shake my head, telling him I didn't know. I never knew he came in his pants. How could I have?

"She refuses to look at me at school from that day on. I try to talk to her several times, even though I'm scared to death to face her after I humiliated myself that way, and instead, I see her talk to Jacob more and more."

I shake my head harder.

No, no! That was so long ago. He's punishing me for this now?

"But that doesn't matter, right? That girl doesn't exist any longer," he says.

I blink and nod.

He cups under my chin. "Well, that's not fucking true, now, is it?"

I try to swallow, but he's still pistoning in and out of my mouth like a fucking freight train crashing through a tunnel.

"Oh, no, she's still that girl. She shuts me out, says she'll tighten security to try and keep me out, then she calls some jerk-off, asshat named Riot. And he's interested in my girl. Yes, he is." He grunts. "And that pisses me off. You called him, didn't you?"

I shake my head, and he slaps my cheek a little harder this time.

"Don't you dare," he hisses.

I stiffen, but keep sucking.

"She tells him she's going to do nice things for him and even invites him over—to bring her some shitty ingredients to keep her hands clean, when she knows I'd gladly bring her that stuff."

He means he'd steal it for me and break in to give it to me.

My eyes water and my throat constricts.

"She even tells him gym workouts are working for him. Is he hot?" he asks with a husky, low tone. He strokes my cheeks and pumps his dick in my mouth faster, reckless even. "You said _love_ to him; that you loved how he puts up with all your neuroses. What about me? What about what I love? I fucking told you already that I love you. Has he?"

I shake my head and choke on my stuttering inhale.

His shift from talking about me in third person to first, almost frightens me. My gut tightens.

"That _sensitive_ shithead—calls himself sensitive," he mumbles, "trying to move in on my girl." His abs flex as his hips tilt and he picks up the pace even more. "Well, he can't fucking have you. You're mine! This shit is mine!"

I nod and swallow a little.

He grunts with a breathless sound, dying off at the end.

"Mmanama pfuuda," I mutter.

He smacks my cheek again then caresses them and slides his hands into my hair, his eyes soft and following his hands.

"But we both know you don't want him. You're just teasing that dick—stringing him along so he'll do your bidding. Well that stops now. You want _me_. You want _this_. And his shriveled up cock doesn't taste this good, does it?" He stills his hips, and his tip hits the dangling piece of flesh at the back of my throat.

I try to swallow once more, but this time, nothing happens. Saliva pools at the back of my throat, almost drowning me.

He pulls out. "Answer me honestly, and I'll untie that hand, and you can finish me off—make it up to me for cheating on me with that fucking lawyer."

I swallow. "I don't want him," I whimper. "I never have."

He wraps his fingers around my throat and leans in good and close. "That's not what I asked you. Does. His. Cock. Taste. This. Good?" He reaches down, swipes his fingertip across the flaring tip of his dick and smears his precome across my upper lip. "Does he?"

"How the fuck should I know? I've never touched him," I grit through my teeth.

His fingers drift menacingly up and down my throat. "Nor will you ever. These lips belong to me. These hands," he wrangles my right hand free and then makes sure the left is still secure, "do what I say. They touch my cock, stroke my balls, and when I tell them to, they hit the right keys and tell me what I want to know."

"This sounds like some perverted form of blackmail," I tell him, glaring.

"No. Never blackmail. But you'll share with me because I own you, and you'll want to give me everything before long." He groans. "I've wanted you for so long, you're not getting away."

I snort a laugh. "I must've missed the class required for doormat one-oh-one. Christ, Edward."

"You did. And that's why I started with lesson one tonight. Sucking it like a girl trying to redeem herself after talking to another man when she refused me access to her bedroom." He sniffs at my lips and then licks the remnants he smeared of himself onto me. "And you know I need this shit—that I need you. You want me to beg to fuck you, is that it? That's why you make me practically tear your fucking hinges off your doors to get to you? Stop trying to keep me out. Do that to _him,_ not me!"

He stretches his neck, and I frown.

"Ready for lesson two? How to be a gracious host, and be waiting in your bed naked for me? I don't want you wearing clothes to sleep."

"Yet, here you are, in my bedroom—fully clothed. And he's never broken into my home, not once."

He smirks, and it's lopsided and devious, like him. "That's because I'm smarter than that fat fuck. And I'm not gonna wait around for you to unlock that pussy for me. I take it because I know how."

"You know how to steal, and he's not fat, you insensitive prick."

"Suck me now. I don't wanna hear another word about that slippery bastard, selling you out." He jerks his body up and shoves his dick back inside my mouth.

I close my eyes, hum and caress his warm, palatable skin with my tongue, savoring the texture, the glide of him and most of all, the unique flavor that is growing on me more and more.

He grabs my hand and wraps it around his balls. I've never done this before, so I have no idea what feels good. I tug a little; roll the balls around like they're Chinese stress balls.

After a few seconds, he's moaning like he's dying.

He leans over, presses his hands into my shoulders, really pushing the weight of his body into me, and giving him some kind of psycho leverage so his dick goes deep, without making me gag.

It's like he's bypassing my gag trigger, and making it easier on me.

I breathe deeper, too, which makes no sense since my lungs should be compacted in this position.

Goddammit, he's a genius.

I stroke the skin behind his balls, and almost make my way to his crack when suddenly, his legs tighten and almost try to get as far away from me as possible.

Is he . . . ?

Oh, God, he is.

"Fucking shit . . . You—God, I can't . . . Why do you . . . Fuck! I'm gonna . . . I love how you feel on my dick . . . Jesus, Bella. Swallow it, sweetheart, swallow all my come," he says. "God, please . . . Take it all down."

And I feel like I'm about to orgasm from his words and the look on his face; my pussy's throbbing, and out of nowhere, I'm wet as could possibly be.

The way he called me sweetheart, and begged me to take something as personal as his come inside my mouth and down my throat, has my heart pounding like crazy and my body begging for more. And I'm obsessed with having a clean mouth, so this reaction from me makes no sense.

A moment later, hot spurts infiltrate my oral cavity.

He grips the back of my head and almost hugs me to his crotch.

It's hard to breathe now, so I yank on his balls to get him to back off.

"Ahhhh fuck! You are my nasty bitch, yes! God, yes!" His head snaps away and his back arches wildly, yet his dick stays tight in my mouth.

His cock hits the furthest reaches of my throat, and I hack and cough to keep from gagging 'til I puke.

He lets his hands go, and I almost spit him out.

When he's free, I'm struck with an overwhelming urge—an odd sensation comes over me. I swish his come around in my mouth like it's mouthwash. I like the way it feels, and I figure it's antibacterial. I gargle a little bit of it for a second, swallow it down, and when I look at him, his eyes are so dark, so full of fire, that he grabs my shoulders and says, "Fuck. _You_ are kinkier than I ever thought possible. Let's do that again . . ."

"Can I at least get my oxygen levels up first? My CO twos are off."

He laughs and then abruptly hugs me.

"Sweetheart, you're the best thing that's ever happened to me since my voice dropped." He shifts his hips into me, settling his weight between my thighs.

"Since your balls dropped, too, and I know that's recent. Like, about five minutes ago . . . When I yanked them into the right spot for you."

He collapses onto me, shoves me down to the bed, and kisses me so hard, with so much force, I'm thinking he didn't hear that bit about me needing some air.

He has me at an awkward angle, and I'm able to slip my left hand out of the ropes, so I yank on his hair and he growls then bites my bottom lip.

Because apparently, that's what dickhead thieves do after they've been sucked off.

**A/N:**

******Thank you to my two betas. They're amazing: Sunflower Fanfiction and Anakin Smom.**

**Posted a day early because I needed this after the crazy day I had today. Next update is Monday...**

**Until then, leave the thievery to Edward, since he knows what he's doing.**

**Chanse**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4: Sanity and Games**

_EPOV_

Bella sleeps like she's dead.

I can't sleep at all.

I've fucked her mouth, fucked her pussy more than once, and I want more.

Her ass is calling out to me. Hell . . . every damn inch of her calls out to me.

Dammit . . . Does her skin have to be so fucking soft, glowing and pale?

Her warm breath pelts my chest and before I lose control and fuck her again while she's asleep, since I already did that once and it woke her, I move away from her so I can go search for what I need.

The real reason I came back here.

I get up, grab my clothes and manage to tie her wrists to the headboard again so if she wakes up while I'm searching, she can't interrupt me.

Her house is so clean, I can't keep from touching everything, just to be an obnoxious ass.

It'll give her something to do tomorrow. She can clean up all my DNA and maybe gross out over the bile threatening at the back of her throat while she does it.

I grab the bag I left by her front door, and empty the contents out on her counter.

They should be the ingredients she needs to make her own hand sanitizer. I'm not a total asshole.

I do care that she's comfortable, even when I'm jamming my dick down her throat.

I only do what she loves, and goddammit, those moans of pleasure that emanate out of her while she's sucking me off . . .

_Not helping. You're already hard as fuck and need to get a job done. Stop dwelling on the image of her mouth on you._

I shuffle into her office, log on with the temporary password Jasper gave me and rifle through her prototype notes for what I took from her.

I'm still not sure what this thing does.

I drop all her notes into my drop box account that Jasper's monitoring. He'll promptly empty it and encrypt all the files so she can't find them in our stuff, should she hack into our shit to try and get it back.

When I'm done, I dig through her desk drawers and can't find it.

"Shit! He's gonna kill me," I hiss through my teeth.

I search through the rest of her office. It isn't here.

I wind my way back to her bedroom and search for it there, too. She sleeps through it all. I know her video cameras are catching me looking for it, but I don't give a fuck.

"Where the hell is it?" I whisper in a huff, my hands resting on my hips.

I move out to her kitchen and search that area as well.

Her living room?

I look in every damn crack and crevice, but it's not here.

Riot! She gave it to that shithead! I know it!

Fuck. I don't want to break into his house.

Maybe Jasper can do it. But the boss won't like that. He specifically said I had to get this one myself—this job is mine.

I roam back to her room, grab my pocketknife out of my pocket, and leave it on her chest.

The coldness of the knife finally wakes her up.

Her head snaps up and she groans when she sees she's tied up again.

"Sorry, sweetheart, but you know I can't resist. And you sleep like you've been drugged. Has anyone ever told you that before?" I rest my palm on her ankle. She lets me; leaves her leg in place.

My insides heat. She's not pulling away from me like she usually does from my casual touches after I've wasted her body with rough, animalistic sex.

I smile.

She doesn't.

"No, asshole. No one's ever said that to me because normal men don't tie me up when I'm out of it. Only you're sick enough to do it."

"Only I'm privileged enough," I correct her.

"Only you're fucked up enough with a glandular problem the size of your head. I really don't know what your problem is, but you need to get a fucking grip."

I cup myself. "Like this? You wanna grip it for me?" I slide my palm up and down the outline of my hard on.

"No thanks. I'm gonna go back to sleep."

"Suit yourself. Cut yourself free when you wake up. I'm leaving now." I motion to the knife on her chest.

"Shit. You really are a dick of epic proportions, you know that, right?"

"I do," I lilt, lean over and kiss her pubic mound then smirk. "Catch you later, Ides. Thanks for dinner. It was awesome."

She growls and snaps her jaw closed.

I didn't eat anything other than her, but she doesn't need to know that.

My laughter carries as I exit her place.

.

.

.

A few days later, I'm headed to the courthouse.

Jasper chewed my ass out all morning, stating I was running him ragged.

I only shrugged in response. I needed this—needed _her_.

He didn't know what it was like, being painfully erect all the time for a woman that pretends to hate me—only serving to make me want her even more desperately.

"You ready?" I ask my boss.

He holds up a finger as he punches something into his phone with his other hand.

Always doing something.

I roll my eyes and lean my shoulder up against the wall.

"I'm always ready. Are _you_?" he asks finally, when he's finished.

He stands up and even though I'm taller, he still dwarfs me somehow, his presence threatening.

"Yes, sir," I say, blinking hard.

"About damn time; you've had your head up your ass all week," the boss says.

"Have not," I mutter and lead him into the courtroom.

I want to ask him how he pushed this hearing through so quickly, but there's no point. With his money and connections, there's no telling what he can do or get ahold of.

"And did you ever go back and find it?" he asks me.

I know what he's referring to. "No. She's moved it somewhere else. I think her lawyer has it," I answer.

"Then fucking get it already," he growls and takes a seat at the front table.

I slip into the chair next to his, drum my fingers on the table.

"Get your papers out—at least look like you know what you're doing," he says, leaning toward me.

"I _do _know what I'm doing." I open my briefcase and shuffle my papers about then spread them on the table. I don't need them. I know this case better than he does.

_Shhhweeeeeek!_

The door behind us swings open with a squeak, and in strides Bella, in a light blue dress that buttons down the entire length of her. God, she's a wet dream at night in her bed, and a demon during the day, wearing that dress.

She's wearing black heeled boots and gloves.

I smirk when she spots me and gasps.

Just for kicks, I straighten my black tie.

Her eyes rake over me and she rolls her eyes.

My smile burns into my facial features.

I knew she'd like it.

"Why'd you dress like you're going to a funeral?" the boss whispers next to me.

"It's all for her—I know what I'm doing," I reply.

I wore all black, with a purple shirt, and I know she'll appreciate the gesture.

Riot walks in a few minutes later, and Bella's shoulders melt about two inches with her relieved sigh.

My hands clench into fists.

He better keep his distance from her.

If he so much as fucking breathes on her . . .

"Relax," the boss tells me.

I take a deep breath, hold it and shift toward the front of the room.

Judge Clarence enters the room, and I try to keep a neutral expression.

The boss owns this man—like he owns everyone else, including me.

Well, at least, he likes to think he does.

The judge takes a seat, gets comfortable, and a few seconds later I hear the door open behind us again, but I don't look back. I know who it is—Jasper.

"Mr. Thayer, Mr. Cullen, let's get started. I'd like to hear from the plaintiff first," the judge says.

I stand up and slip my hands in my pockets. "My client here, Shilling Corporation, has a complaint about Ides Notions Inc.'s newest creation."

"It's not even completed, Your Honor," Riot interjects.

"That's as it should be," I say, glaring at him over my shoulder.

"This is absurd. This prototype was specifically commissioned by your client through a private deal." Riot rests his hand on the table, and her gloved hand settles next to his.

My eyes run over her face, and she stares at me impassively, then leans toward Riot and whispers something to him—her eyes on me the entire time.

Goddammit—this woman's making me aroused, the dirty bitch.

I take a deep breath and turn back to the judge. "The paperwork clearly stipulated that no other company, individual, family or friend, should know about it, and she shared it with me." I pull my briefcase up on the desk and take out the remote I took out of her car.

"Her car was stolen, with that prototype in it," Riot says. He stands up. "May I ask how you got ahold of it?"

"It was given to me by the police officer that found her car that had been stripped bare of any identifying marks as her vehicle. He called me because he found my fingerprint on her car," I say.

The judge's brows pop up. "This sounds very odd, Mr. Cullen. You better have a good explanation on why your fingerprint was on her car. Do you know the defendant?"

I clear my throat and straighten out my suit coat. "I saw her at a gas station that night and asked her for some change so I could pay for bus fare home, since my motorcycle had just been stolen in that parking lot." I smirk and glance over at her.

Her face is paler than usual, but other than that, she shows no sign of emotions.

"I see . . ." The judge pauses and asks, "And did you get your bike back?"

"Yes," I answer. "It seems the same culprits that stole my bike, stole her car. It was two thugs. They ditched my bike and her car a few miles down the road from where they were stolen. The police are still looking for them."

He blinks and leans back in his chair, appearing to be deep in thought.

"I hope you've returned her vehicle to her," the judge says.

"You know as well as I do, the cops have impounded it. They'll contact her soon, I'm sure." I take a breath and continue, "But back to the matter at hand."

"Yes, I've read the lawsuit." The judge exhales and clicks his tongue. "I'm really not seeing what the problem is; why the plaintiff is even here."

My boss yawns and stretches next to me. I stifle a laugh. "When my client here had his analysts take a close look at her prototype, it was alarming."

"Enlighten me sometime in this century, Mr. Cullen, or I'm going to rule in favor right now of the defendant," the judge tells me.

Bella chuckles.

I step around the table and lean the backs of my thighs against it.

"Sir, this thing is a weapon," I say, my voice flat.

"Is not!" Riot says.

"Shhh . . ." The judge glares at him. "Mr. Thayer, you're supposed to be familiar with the rules of court—act like it," he scolds Riot.

Riot leans toward Bella and whispers something to her and then she touches him. With her gloved hand, but shit, my teeth grind as I watch the small, innocent gesture.

She's. Fucking. Touching. Him!

I cough to give myself a second to center myself and to wipe my expression clean. When I've gotten control of myself, I go back to my explanation, "It's a chip to be inserted into a pet for tracking purposes."

The judge stares at me as though he thinks this is ridiculous.

"And this remote," I say, walking it up to the judge for further inspection, "is the problem."

"Why? I'm still not seeing it," the judge asks.

"If I push this button right here," I say, pointing at the green one in the middle, "it activates the chip. Sounds innocuous, right? Well, not really. If I push this red one with the P on it, it sends an impulse directly into the brain and forces the animal to come back to the owner. The chip in the remote matches the DNA frequency and impulse wave in the animal, and if the animal can't for some reason return to the owner, if they're injured or caught by someone else, the chip will automatically, within two minutes, tell the owner the exact whereabouts of the animal."

The judge looks over at Riot. "Does it work? Has it been tested yet?"

He nods. "It has, Your Honor. We've actually had it tested on my very own pet. It's safe though, there're no—"

"I wasn't finished," I interrupt. "I think you can see the implications here if someone, somewhere, was to use this on say—a human. We all know that there are still slave traders all over the world that would be only too happy to get their hands on something like this," I say.

My eyes flick back over to Bella, and she's grimacing, and once more whispering something in Riot's ear.

"And what was the actual contract for?" the judge asks.

"It was supposed to give the information to a security system where authorities would be the only ones to get this information, not the actual owner. This way, there would be no way this would fall into the hands of criminal organizations and be used to their advantage," I explain.

The judge nods, picks up a pen and nibbles on the end while he sits, looking like he's mulling something over.

When I sit down and look over at Bella, she's green, looking sickened by the pen in the judge's mouth.

"Mr. Thayer, present your defendant's case," the judge says; there's a little drool on his chin, he promptly wipes it off with his sleeve.

Bella gasps softly and has to turn her head away from him.

I watch her gloves come off and her hands frantically search through Riot's bag he's brought. She pulls out a small container and rubs something on her hands. I assume it's hand sanitizer, but who knows with Ides.

"Your Honor, the contract was vague about who was supposed to receive the information on the whereabouts of the chipped pet." He passes the judge the agreement. "My client here, representing her company, has made it clear to me that they were only acting in the best interests of Shilling Corporation, giving them maximum control of the information the chip will provide. This is genius work, and it's not Ides Notions Inc.'s responsibility to keep this out of the hands of anyone else other than Shilling Corporation. This lawsuit is a waste of everyone's time. Ides Notions Inc. isn't even going to be using any of the proceeds made off this invention. It's all going to charity." Riot takes a deep breath and when he looks at her, the adoration is clear as fuck, and I'm grinding my teeth once more.

"Remind me which charity the money's going to," the judge says.

"It's a homeless shelter for teens that have either been abandoned or run away."

I shoot a quick text to Jasper to look it up as soon as Riot mentions the name.

A second later, Jasper's sent me a text that reads, **That's where she went after her dad went to prison.**

Pangs of sadness rifle through me, wishing she'd turned to me when all that shit happened so long ago.

"I thought it was going toward a new campaign for protection of minors with parents that have guns in the home," the judge says.

"Well, yes, a portion is going toward the research Ides Notions Inc. is currently involved in. But less than one percent of the income derived will go toward that. It's for a new DNA typing for guns, to ensure that a family member cannot inadvertently or purposefully pull a trigger on someone with matching DNA. "

The judge's jaw pops open.

Mine does, too.

Holy shit, this woman is astounding. I know she's the one heading this up.

The judge's brow furrows. "Why would Ides Notions Inc. be involved in that? It doesn't seem like their usual M. O."

"The CEO here," Riot motions to Bella, "was involved in a previous situation as a minor, where a family member assaulted and pulled a gun on her. They fired and missed, thankfully, but she's been drafting this project up for years. It's finally been approved through the proper channels and authorities, but the stipulation was it had to be funded through grants and donations."

The judge nods.

The boss next to me snaps his fingers, and when I turn toward him, he points at his watch, telling me to wrap this thing up.

"Your Honor, this is all fascinating, but it's beside the point. It doesn't matter what Ides Notions Inc. intends to do with the funds. The problem here is how this weapon works, and what do about it."

"Are you proposing it be destroyed?" the judge asks, his brows popping up.

His right eye twitches, and I can tell he's fallen under her spell—the magnificence and brilliance that is Ides.

I fail to answer.

The judge looks to my boss, and there's a look that transpires between them.

"Let's take a fifteen minute break, and then we'll reconvene. I'll most likely have a decision by then," the judge says, then dismisses us.

I look over at her, sitting all serene and beautiful as fuck, and I'm even harder now. The thought that she hasn't said a thing out loud, gotten even remotely riled, pisses me off, but also makes me want to bite into her tits while I'm fucking her into the wall.

God, she really is a demon, sent to destroy my entire ego.

I motion to Jasper at the back to get me her new phone number, along with her fucking douchebag lawyer's.

I step out of the room, and less than a minute later, I've got Riot's number.

Before I figure out where I want to go for this break, I send a quick text to Riot.

**If you touch her again . . .**

A deep growl vibrates low, in the back of my throat.

The bathroom's at the end of the hall, and there aren't very many people nearby, so I step inside and lock the door.

Before I've even thought this through, my zipper's down, my hands on my cock, and when I look at my phone, Jasper's already gotten her phone number up on my screen for me.

I dial her up.

"Hello . . . ?" Her soft voice makes my dick bob.

"Mmm . . . Ahhhhh . . . . Ahhhhh . . ." I stroke long and slow.

"Look, whoever this, I'm hanging up," she huffs.

"Don't . . ." I manage to grit out. "Please." I yank it harder, and I know she can hear my quick jerking hand with my dick sliding in it.

"Oh. My. God. You _are_ a sick bastard," she says.

I smile and tighten my grip on my shaft.

_Stroke . . . Stroke . . . Stroke._

"Ahhhhh . . . Mmm—o-ohhhh," I pant, imaging her hand doing this to me.

Her breath catches then goes shallow, and I can tell I'm turning her on.

"Shiiiit," she whispers, and there's movement on her end. It sounds rough, like she's just shoved herself up against a wall; probably hiding so no one will see her reactions.

"Why are you doing this to me?" she asks in a hushed, low, husky breath.

"Mmmnnnnuuuugh," I grunt, and fuck, I'm really close.

I shove my pants down lower, so I don't get any come on them.

"Ahhhh . . . Fuuuuuuuck, Ides," I moan and my breathing gets crazy loud, crescendos, and I'm right fucking there, leaking, and she's calling me an asshole.

_That's right, baby . . ._ My nasty bitch likes the sound of me about to climax.

"Jeeeesus, Vapor," she grits.

And then I'm undone, convulsing, weaving around in this small space, drunk off the sound of her saying my name like that.

I lean over the toilet and my come spurts all over the place, landing on the seat, on the walls, and very little in the actual bowl.

"Oooohhhhh, hohhh, hohhh, hohhh," I choke on my breath, trying to catch it.

"Fuck you!" she growls.

"Thanks. Yeah, tonight, sweetheart, we will. Wait up for me," I say, and hang up. Ropes will definitely be required.

When I get back to the courtroom after cleaning myself up, I'm more relaxed and ready to face her.

I smile at her, and she flips me off under the table and scowls at me.

Well, God, she wants it bad if she's doing that.

I nod as if to the beat of a song and I almost strut over to her. My erection's finally gone, so I don't look like such a prick; this also means I need to keep the flirting to a minimum so I can keep from getting aroused again.

"Was it good for you?" _Nope. That's not the plan, Edward. Shut the fuck up now._ I rub my chest.

She glares and looks away, keeping silent. My eyes rake over her body, and instead of unbuttoning a few on her dress to taunt me, she's done the opposite, looking almost frail and virginal, with her dress all modest and blue like the innocent sky, and fasted up to her neck.

Fuck. She's killing me. This is worse. I'll be imagining tearing those buttons off with my teeth now, just to get at her, and release her inner slut.

"I always say a break can be a nice thing. Wouldn't you agree, Riot?" I ask her lawyer.

His brows shove together, and then his head suddenly snaps toward her pouting figure, turned away from us.

He shoots me a death glare, and I chuckle.

It's pretty obvious he thinks I fucked her during the fifteen minutes we were away.

God, I should be so lucky.

I step back over to my side of the room. Jasper grins, and the judge returns, taking a seat.

The pen lands right back on his lips while he swivels his chair a little.

"This is what I see," he begins. "This is indeed a weapon, and I rule in favor of the plaintiff. They have all rights to this invention, and as such, the deal is null and void. The defendant is to receive half the payment originally agreed to since Ides Notions Inc. overshot the mark, taking no thought on how this new invention could be a menace to society."

Bella stands up, but remains quiet.

The judge motions for me to step forward, and he hands me back the implement.

"I hope Shilling Corporation has experts that can dismantle this thing and make it safer so I don't have to be faced with another lawsuit down the road on this contraption and deal with the ramifications of reckless inventions."

"They do," I say, nodding. "It'll be taken care of."

The judge dismisses us, and before I catch Bella out in the parking lot, she's gone, and Riot's disappeared as well.

"Keep your dick in your pants, Son," the boss says, chuckling as he passes me up to get to his Ferrari 599.

I laugh. Not because he looks kind of childish in that thing, but because Bella had a more expensive car than his with her Bugatti Veyron EB, Emmett and I stole.

.

.

.

Once it's dark, I park her car in her driveway, and chuckle as I imagine her facial expression when she finds it in the morning; safe and silver.

I slip out of the car and try to get into her house my usual way, but it's not working.

I call up Jasper.

"She's made a new chip," he answers.

"Fuck, how did she have time for that?"

"Who the hell knows? She's Ides—that's what she does. Oh, and just so you know, this one is better—stronger. It overrides all of the old chip's commands, so yours is useless," he says.

"It's not useless. I'll find a way to work around this," I say, and end the call.

I head to her backyard and find her bedroom window then rap on it like some twisted, teenaged pervert, trying to sneak into his girlfriend's room late at night.

There's no answer, of course, but I get a new call.

Oh fucking hell . . .

I answer it, and all at once I know it's her as a feminine breath washes through the phone line.

"Ahhhhh, uuuuhhhh . . . Uh-uhhhh . . . Ahhhhh," she sighs and breathes hard.

I throb, I breathe almost as hard as her as the obscene call escalates into gasping moans.

"Oh, God," she rasps. Her breaths are jagged and choppy.

A few grunts and the sound of fabric being rustled, makes my cock twitch and harden to granite.

_Swiiipap, swiipap, swiiipap._

The unmistakable sound of a very wet pussy being assaulted by fingers or a dildo, tortures me.

I pull myself up onto her window ledge, and though I can't see all the way in her bedroom, I can see the mattress shaking.

_Click. Bzzzz . . ._

Shit. She's got a vibrator out now.

"Oooohhhh, I'm coming, Jaaaaacob," she cries out.

Then . . . Dirty bitch falls apart, she goes all breathy and high pitched, and like a fucking kid, I almost come in my pants.

"Fuck," I groan.

I hear a distinct smack on her wall inside her bedroom, and then she sighs like it's the best sex she's ever had.

"I'll find a way in," I call out.

She laughs.

And that's when I climb up her damn wall, and circle her chimney.

Fucking cunt's begging for my dick.

I'll have it. And if she says that stupid name, Jacob again, I'll gag her.

Gag her until she remembers whose name should be falling off those cock-sucking lips.

**A/N:**

**Don't you forget, I have two awesome betas-Anakin Smom and Sunflower Fanfiction. They rock harder than this story. ;D**

**Chanse**


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5: Snatch and Run**

_BPOV_

He's on my roof.

I yawn, and call up Riot.

"What's he doing _now_?" he answers the call.

"He's trying to break in, unsuccessfully," I say.

"This isn't a game," he tells me.

"I know, but it is to him."

He sighs. "He broke into my home today."

"Why didn't you call the cops?" I ask, getting up and bringing my sex toys to the bathroom.

I drop them in a bowl of cleaning fluids and then wash my hands while I tuck the phone between my ear and shoulder.

"What—like you did? You didn't even tell that judge today he was the jackass who stole your car," he reminds me.

"Why would that've mattered? The car, while I'm pissed he took it, doesn't matter. It's a distraction. It's not what he's after."

"I know that, but why would he even admit to all that today?" His tone is sharper than it ever has been.

"To rub it in our faces," I reply.

I walk back into my room and slip into some comfortable clothes.

Black. Safe. Predictable, and what I need with him pawing and scratching around out there like a wild animal.

He's lucky I know it's him, or my chip would've already sent the police here.

Police that I can trust—not the crooked ones like my father.

When I'm dressed, I head into my office.

"Well, what did he take from your house?" I ask.

"Nothing that I can tell. I'm not entirely sure what he's after." I hear a scratching sound, and I roll my eyes.

"I'll let you go," I say.

"Why?"

"I'm not stupid, Riot. I know what you're doing, and I've already had to deal with that today from another man," I complain.

"Oh, God, are you serious? He jacked off on the phone while he was talking to you?"

"See—now this is so wrong. You're my lawyer, my friend, why are _you_ whacking it while I'm talking to you?"

"I-I'm not," he stammers.

"You are. Goodbye. I'll talk to you tomorrow, and next time you leave all my supplies to make my hand sanitizer, can you leave it in the garage instead of on the kitchen counter?" I request, swapping the phone to my other ear for a moment as I peer out my window and watch the rope slip up the side of my roof. I chuckle.

He's ludicrous at times.

"I didn't bring your supplies inside. I couldn't get in. You switched the codes to the locks. I still have them sitting in my car. I meant to give them to you today after the hearing, but you left so quick I couldn't," he responds.

Shit. Edward left me the stuff I needed?

Why would he do that?

He hates me.

Did he piss in the ingredients or something?

I squint and watch the last of the dangling rope disappear.

"Oh, great," I mutter. "It's fine. Don't worry about my supplies. Just hold on to them in case I need them in the future. But before I go . . . Why didn't you tell me he was the plaintiff's attorney before I got to court?"

He sniffs. "I didn't know it was him. Jesus, Ides. The paperwork said Stromman, Leibers and Johnston, Attorneys at Law. How was I supposed to know he'd be the one representing that asshole?"

"Who was the man sitting next to him?"

"His name's Carlisle Cullen," he answers.

I gasp. That dickhead! That was his father?

"What? What's wrong, Bella? Did he break in through a window? Is Vapor in your house right now?"

I rub my eyes with the heel of my left hand. "No, and he won't get in, but I gotta go. Thanks for everything, Riot. You're an amazing friend, and a terrific lawyer."

"In case you forgot—we lost today," he says, his tone flat and lifeless.

"It doesn't matter. You got me through it, and I thought I was gonna lose it when the judge started orally fixating on his pen. Yick!"

He chuckles.

"All right, talk to you tomorrow," I say, and end the call.

There's a banging sound on the roof, and I ignore it.

I step into my office, plunk myself down in my chair, and once I start looking at the security tapes from Riot's house today, my fingers and toes tingle then go numb.

"Son of a bitch!" I yell, jumping out of my chair. "You fucking loser!"

I run out my back door and shout, "Get your ass down here, now!"

Edward saunters out from behind the corner of the house.

"Wh-who's on my roof?"

"Not me," he says.

"What the fuck are you doing to me?"

"Well, I'd like to be _fucking_ you—but you already know that," he says, his steps smooth and his smile growing.

He steps inside my house, and I race after him.

"You took it!"

"You left it in an unsafe place," he says.

"It's mine, and I want it back!"

"You'll have to take it, then, because it's mine now, and I have no intention of returning it to that idiot, Riot."

My jaw snaps shut. "What the fuck is your problem? Why do you keep harassing me?"

"I haven't even begun to harass you."

There's a loud thunk outside, and I turn around, and scream, when the man that stole my car with him eons ago, steps inside.

"You got this?" Emmett asks.

Edward nods.

"Good. Catch ya later, Ides," Emmett says, winking and leaving me standing there, gaping.

He shuts the door, and I say, "Lock down."

All the doors bolt shut.

Edward laughs. "Locking me in? My, Ms. Black, that can only mean one thing—you want me here, you dirty bitch. You want a good, hard fucking, since your toys didn't satisfy you."

"They did their job just great," I say, backing away from him.

I'm glad I'm clothed, but he looks at me, licking his lips, like he can see straight through the fabric on my body.

"Now, about that blow job you told me today you'd be giving me," he says.

I blink and swallow. "Is there an award being handed out for asshole-thief-of-the-year because you're on the list of candidates."

He smirks, swallows down a rough, biting laugh, and replies, "And you're on the list for hottest bitches, giving lawyers an unending boner. Fuck, you were torturing me today."

Before I can position myself strategically and get the hell away from him, he lunges forward, and I'm caged up against the breakfast bar.

"_What_ do you want? You already stole it," I say.

His eyes suddenly go really dark and get heavy. "I haven't uncovered its secrets yet, and I haven't uncovered yours either." He leans in, drags his nose up my jugular and inhales, making the filthiest sound imaginable.

My legs jerk as my pussy tingles.

"Do it again," he says.

"Do what? I didn't do anything." I lean away from him, but it only makes my legs open wide, making me look like a wanton hussy.

And I'm sitting on a clean counter, but I know there are unseen germs here. Where's my black light?

I should disinfect this immediately and ohhhhh gaaaaawd!

He bites my right breast, and then sucks hard through my shirt. My nipple tightens and so do my thighs—around his waist.

"Make those sounds you made on the phone. You were really fucking loud, like an animal. How could you do that when I'm not touching you?" He nips his way up my chest until he's at my jaw, then he grips it with one hand, and in a flash, he's kissing me hard, forcing his tongue into my mouth.

I wobble for a second, almost falling off the side of the counter, but his other hand braces me, and then pushes me flat, so my back's on the _Formica_ countertop.

"I'm not eating breakfast here ever again," I tell him.

"That's right—because I'll be the one eating you out here," he says.

I want to scream, "Dirty, filthy germs!" when he pulls my pants down, and his tongue drifts up my thigh, but I know it won't stop him.

It didn't last time.

And I really want him to continue.

"You're gonna shave this shit off for me," he says, his hands moving through my pubic hairs.

"Fuck no!" I shriek with my back jettisoning off the countertop. "It keeps harmful bacteria out of my vagina."

"And getting rid of this mess," he says, looking down at my pubes, "has been proven to lower the incidence of crabs."

"You have crabs?" I squeak, and try to scramble away, but he grabs me and pins me in place.

"No, I don't have fucking crabs, I'm just saying . . ."

I grimace. Crabs. He has them.

"Look, goddammit, I just don't want shitty hairs getting in my way. I plan to eat you out—_often_. And I want this gone," he says.

"Shitty hairs?" My face drops. "I shower daily; _twice_ daily, in fact." My voice cracks. He thinks I'm disgusting and dirty. No wonder he calls me a dirty bitch. I sniff back tears.

"Yyyyyaaaah!" he groans and stretches his head back.

I flinch. Is he going to hit me?

Dad made a sound like that before he went psycho on me. I close my eyes, drop my head and brace myself for the onslaught.

I've been hit before, lots of times. I can take a beating.

"Christ, Bella, what're you . . ." he trails off, and then soft fingers drift over my shoulders, thread into my hair. "He really hurt you, didn't he? God, I'd love to tear your father's head off."

"Why?" I sniff. My eyes are moist, but I won't cry. I can't. Not when a man's watching.

"Because of what he did to you—what Riot said today at court. Your Dad shot at you?"

"Yeah," I answer, my spine stiffening at his touch. He pities me? That's why he's here? I turn my head away from him and stare at the wall, unseeing.

"My Lord, you were a kid. Why didn't you come to me for help?"

"You were a kid, too. What could you have done?"

"Plenty, my father has tons of connections, and he would've—"

I turn to him, my eyes filled with anguish and my lips quivering. "He would've what? Killed my dad? You think I want that? I love him, even if he despises me. I've only ever wanted my dad to be happy, and to stop. He didn't know what he was doing."

"Jesus, you think he didn't know stealing your ideas and selling them off was wrong? Is he mentally imbalanced?"

"No, I meant . . ." I look away again, unable to say the words.

"Tell me, sweetheart," he says with the softest, sweetest tones ever, but I can't listen.

He can't be trusted.

"There's nothing to tell . . ."

"All right, have it your way." He nuzzles into the side of my hair, his lips planting kisses everywhere. His hands shake as they slowly caress me, and almost painstakingly prepare my body to burn for him.

"I don't want anything from you," I whimper as he drags my shirt off.

"Yes, you do, Ides. You want this as much as I do, otherwise you never would've called me back and touched yourself," he says, his voice smoother than silk.

"I . . . I don't know what I was thinking—it just seemed like you deserved it," I reply, the lie evident in my quivering voice.

My body trembles as his fingers roam delicately across the cups of my bra, and his eyes follow his fingers, making him that much more irresistible.

"Why do you fight me? You need this," he says, leaning into me with every other word, his back arching.

It's like his words are fucking me.

God, how does he do this to me?

"Because I don't like you," I say, barely above a whisper, and my eyes trace down his torso and land on his straining erection.

"No, you don't. But you crave this—" his hips tilt into me, and his tip hits my clit "—crave _me_. I can give you what you want, and I know you feel this; what we have."

I shift my hips into him without even considering what a hypocrite I am. I just need to feel . . .

"What do you want, sweetheart? You can tell me," he says, sliding his nose up my neck and parting his lips over my jaw. His breath on my skin makes my vision blur and my heart pound.

"I want . . ."

"Yesss . . . Tell me."

"I wanna feel safe, with m-men," I stutter.

"You're safe with me, Bella—_always_." He rests his forehead on my cheek for a moment, then his hands place themselves on my ribs, almost cupping right under my breasts. His grip is light, but keeps me in place.

"I'm not."

"You are. Tell me how you feel right now." His breathing picks up a little.

"When you're holding me, yes, I feel safe." I nod a little.

He lifts his head and looks in my eyes. "You like me; admit it."

"I . . ." _I love you . . ._

"Say it. Tell me how you feel." His green eyes shimmer at me, and there's a look of hope there that shatters me inside.

"I can't stop thinking about you," I admit, and my face heats.

"And it's more than sex," he breathes.

"I don't know—I don't know what this is," I say, my chest almost collapsing inside me. My shoulders roll forward, and I sag like a ragdoll.

He lifts me off the counter, sets me down and holds me in his arms, gently against his chest.

"What did he do to you, baby? Please tell me. You're breaking my heart," he says in the most unsettling, tenderest tone, that it makes me collapse into him and break into sobs.

"I gave him all of it," I whimper.

He strokes my hair down my back.

"Gave him all of what?"

"My money. What he stole. I gave it all back. That's how I met Chad. I needed a lawyer to set up a fund for my dad so when he gets out of p-prison, he can have what he wanted so desperately," I say.

Edward pulls back and looks me in the eye. "Riot set that up for you?"

I nod and bite my lip and snot rolls down to my mouth.

He uses the hem of his shirt to wipe it off my face, and my insides melt at the sight of him caring for me.

Does he know what he does to me when he leaves me supplies so I can make my damned hand sanitizer? When he wipes my runny nose so I'm not freaking out over the germs gushing down my face?

I stutter on a gasping breath as he leans in and whispers, "You can't trust him."

"I can, too."

"No, Bella, you can't. He's crooked."

"How would you know?"

"A criminal can always smell another one."

I rip myself out of his arms. "Is that what you call a straight lawyer like him? A criminal?" My voice goes up.

"Fuck, he's slept with you, hasn't he?" His jaw clenches and his fists ball up tight. "That motherfucking dickhead."

"No." My eyes narrow. "I'm not interested in him that way. Never have been."

"But you touched him today, and I practically have to fucking—" He cuts himself off and stretches his neck to the side, looking away from me.

"I think you should leave."

"I'm not going anywhere." His head jerks back toward me, and there's this dangerous, predatory look in his eyes. "You want me, and I can't live through the night without having you."

"If this is just about fucking me, then—"

"Shut up," he says, prowling after me.

"I'm not your fuckhole you can dick around with anytime you want."

"Then what are you to me? What do you think you mean to me?"

I blink and give him a blank stare. "I don't know. You lie to me all the time."

"I've never lied to you," he replies.

"Psssht!" I throw my hands up and they land on his chest, he's in front of me that quickly. "You're a liar and a thief."

"Okay, even if you don't believe I've never lied to you before—"

"My car," I throw it in his face.

"Okay, after the car—yes, that's a given—I haven't lied to you. I've omitted or left facts out you don't need to know, but other than that." He shrugs.

My hands slip down his chest and drift to his abs.

"Please, let me be with you tonight," he says, his eyes going dark again, but filled with so much longing and honesty, I drop my arms.

Without using my words, I slip my bra off and remove my panties. "Don't tell me you love me," I warn, my eyes turned to slits.

"If it's the truth, why shouldn't I say it?"

"You want me to feel safe?"

He nods.

"Then don't fucking say that shit to me," I grind through my teeth.

"No promises, sweetheart, unless you're going to swear you won't ever touch that nasty fleabag, Riot, again." He inhales next to my ear, and I fight off shivers.

"I was wearing gloves—that's the only reason it happened," I explain.

"Why did you need to touch him at all?" He goes rigid.

"Because I was ready to bolt out the door. The judge was gnawing on a pen, you wore my favorite colors to taunt me, and I was horny as fuck for you in that suit—_there_. Happy now?"

"So you touched some other prick?"

"It was his hand, Edward! My God, you'd think I fucked him on the table right in front of—"

His lips slam down on mine, he picks me up, and I automatically lock my legs around his waist.

He carries me into my bedroom, slips his shoes and socks off along the way, then he tosses me onto the bed.

His clothes are stripped off in a matter of seconds, and then he's got his tongue on my clit, lapping at it.

"Shit, you're so wet from before, and you taste so good," he moans.

Heat rushes up my thighs.

"God, you're such a bastard—making me want you," I say, closing my eyes and fisting the bedspread beneath me.

"Don't resist. Stop fighting this. We can be together," he says between sucks and nips at my vulva.

"Stop stealing shit, then," I say.

"Stop inventing stuff I have to steal."

"I want my car back, asshole."

"Okay."

"Fuck you." I bite my cheeks and a hiss escapes out of me as his soft tongue presses inside me and his nose digs into my clit.

"Finally—permission," he groans and heaves his body up, then thrusts inside me, taking my breath away. "God—feels like forever since I've been inside you."

"You fucked me last night," I say, gripping his shoulders as he lunges forward, pushing himself as deep as he can go.

"Too fucking long. I can't take it. I want you all the damn time." He dips down and kisses me, and it's soft, but urgent.

When he breaks away, my head lolls from side to side.

His words . . . Shit. I feel the same way, but I . . .

"Feel good? What do you need?" he asks. "I want you dying to have me, to have more. But fuck, you feel so good. I may come soon. So, tell me what you need."

He holds his breath for a second, and then there's this dying moan emanating out of him and my pussy clenches hard around him.

"God, yessss," he says.

"Stop it," I whimper, choking on my plea.

"Stop what? You don't want this?"

He tries to withdraw, and my hand flies down between us, gripping his cock, and guiding it back inside. "No, please, God, don't stop!"

"What do you want, then?"

"Just take me—like you always do. Take me like you can't control yourself," I say in a rush, and I can't believe I've just said that.

"Like this?" He grips my hair, bites into my neck, and then shoves himself so forcefully inside me, it makes me slide up the bed a few inches.

"Oh fuck!" My back arches, and I clamp my fingers into his ass.

"God, you love this rough." He throws my hands off him, grips my ankles and shoves them up on his shoulders.

He places a pillow behind me, and then backs me up to the headboard.

"Now, I'm gonna fucking love you, because that's what I do. I can't stop myself."

I shake my head to tell him to stop—no talk of love, but he's back inside me, and he's deep, and long and hard, and I can't think or breathe, and oh God . . .

He grips the iron headboard, and rips into me, his dick commanding my body.

"I love you, and I'll say it because it's true, and I hate what your dad did to you, and I hate him for treating you that way."

Tears roll down my cheeks. Why do I always have to be crying around him? I don't want to show him how weak he makes me.

"Stop," I say, my voice hoarse with emotion.

I grip into his neck, to push him away.

He slows down, and his pounding thrusts melt into what can only be described as pure love making.

His kisses turn into whispery, powdery, affectionate touches. His eyes soften and tear up. "You mean everything to me."

My chest constricts and tears spill freely. "You can't say that."

"But I have to because I can't contain it. You're so beautiful and amazing, and I love everything about you. I want you to be mine, and no one else's."

"You're a thief," I say, my hands shaking as they try to shut him up. I try to cover his mouth, but he nips at my fingers, sucks and kisses at them, and it's so damn erotic, I shake with want.

"Is that why you can't love me? Or does it even really matter what I do?"

I shut my eyes, and try to drown out his words with thoughts of my dad screaming at me, aiming his gun at my stupid face.

"You're mine, sweetheart, and I'll take care of you. Let me in . . ." His lips whisper things at my ears, about how he wants a life with me, if I'll only say it—tell him I love him, too.

His fingers slide down my breasts, and he's at my clit, circling with a soft tenderness I can barely comprehend.

"I w-want to love you," I inhale, in jagged, spurts, unable to take him in deep enough. "But I can't." My heart clenches tight at my hideous words.

"You will," he breathes at my neck, his lips softly devouring my skin as his hands skillfully, and gently worship me. "You will . . ."

I fall apart in his arms, coming and gushing all over him, while mindlessly cooing something about how he makes me feel alive inside. And even if I can't say the words, tell him what he wants to hear, my body says it for me . . .

_I'm yours. I love you._

**A/N:**

**Don't you forget, I have two awesome betas-Anakin Smom and Sunflower Fanfiction. They rock, and I try not to roll. That would be humiliating...**

**Chanse**


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6: Games of Ides**

_EPOV_

I returned her Veyron, and yet she's been driving her other car—the one I call trash heap.

It's obviously some kind of sentimental tank of a car, otherwise, why would she drive that old black Camaro around?

The damned thing is falling apart and so rusted, my trackers barely stick to it.

She's locked me out again, keeps changing phones, so I can't get to her.

Fuck—I'm crawling the walls, trying to get back inside.

I've sent her gifts—art. And I didn't steal them; purchased them like any sensible lawyer would do.

It's not my fault she found out I was a thief before she found out I was a lawyer. She wasn't supposed to ever see me that day I stole her car, but she was so beautiful, I couldn't stop myself from saying something to her before we took her vehicle.

Why is she doing this to me?

I got through to her. She broke down in my arms as I made love to her.

_Yeah, asshole—you broke her. That's why for two weeks now, she's evaded you._

"Is it working yet?" I hover over Jasper.

"No, goddammit, and quit asking me that. You're driving me nuts," he says, keeping his head tucked down as he works feverishly at the chip. "If you want it fixed so badly, why don't you try?"

"I have. I've gone through it over and over, but she's got me so fucking . . . God, what a bitch—doing this to me."

"I'm surprised she hasn't broken in here and taken back what you stole from her," he says.

"She knows I wouldn't keep it here, just like she wasn't keeping it at her place," I tell him, circling around him once more.

"Stop fucking pacing. You're making me nervous. Go get a beer or somethin'."

"I can't drink. She doesn't drink. She wouldn't want me to," I say, gripping the edge of the table, still moving in on his space.

"The things you know about her without actually spending any time with her other than stealing her stuff and fucking her . . . Well, it's disturbing."

I chuckle. "She's probably watching me, too."

"Don't flatter yourself. A genius like her's not gonna waste time using surveillance on your pathetic ass. She knows what you're doing without watching."

"Not you, too," I groan. "Emmett won't shut up about her ever since he met her. He was dying to help me break into her place, so I let him clown around on her roof while I waited for her to come out."

"I heard it worked."

"Of course it did," I huff.

"No, I mean your rocket or rock, or whatever the hell you called that thing. Didn't it work for a while?"

"Pffft!" I blow out. "Nope. It never worked. I just told him that."

"Why'd you lie?" He looks up at me briefly then goes back to picking apart the chip. It's useless, and I know it. With the advancements she's made on her new chip, this one's dinosaur technology.

"Because he doesn't need to know all my secrets, and besides, he's a bigger gossip than any bitch you've ever met. He's probably already spread it around that I have this awesome way of breaking into any place with that thing."

Jasper snickers. "He's not as gullible as you think he is."

"Whatever." I stand up, let go of the table and pace again.

"Why don't you just forget about breaking in? Sabotage her some other way. Work on that remote you stole. Figure out how to get the impulse from that chip to her brain, and make her come to you."

"Fuuuuck," I groan and run my hands down my face. "Why didn't I think of that?"

"Because all the blood's in your dick—hard to think with no fluid in the brain. You've been that way a while now. I haven't seen you work on any of your own shit anymore. All you care about is what she's doing."

I sigh. "You want me to say it, too?" I cross my arms over my chest.

"No. I don't give a fuck about your pissing contest with her."

"I'm better than she is at this game and at inventing new technology."

"The mark to beat is five-hundred grand," he reminds me.

"I know!" I say, my voice raising.

"Get it together, man, before your dad comes after your ass and straightens you out."

"He already knows I'm psychotic about her."

"And he hasn't stopped you?" He sets his tools down and shoves the chip at me.

"No. How's he going to rein me in? And, besides, just because he's the boss, and he's my own blood, doesn't mean he owns me. I do what I want."

He grins. "Yeah, good luck with that. Better give him some blood thinners, 'cause I can see you're about to give him a heart attack."

"Fuck you." I grab the chip and head to the living room.

I take a seat at the couch, and set the chip on the coffee table.

He walks in after me a few minutes later as I sit, staring at the remote and chip, laying side-by-side.

"Swallow it."

"What?" I ask, my head tipping back as I look up at him.

"You heard me. You know how to regurgitate stuff. You've done it before when you've stolen other small valuables," he says.

"Yeah, but they didn't have knife blades on the sides that could cut my larynx open on the way back up."

"Diamonds have sharp edges."

I look at him like he's lost his damn IQ from working on this chip too long.

"They do, but it's not the same."

"What're you afraid of?"

"That I'll actually prove I can do this, and that I _am_ better than her," I say, my head dropping down.

"Why's that a bad thing? Is it really a competition?"

"No. She doesn't treat me that way, I just . . ."

"Your dad, right?"

He sets his hand on my shoulder.

I don't have to answer. He's right, and he knows it.

"Swallow it. I'll help you figure this remote out. Once we've got it situated, we can refashion the chip, make it smaller, and you can make sure she gets it back inside her body."

"How'm I gonna do that?" I ask, my voice breaking.

"I'm sure you'll think of a way." He picks up the chip and slips it into my palm.

"You know this has to be insanely fast, right? If it gets down in my stomach, we're fucked."

"I think I already know how to fix the remote. Just get it trapped in your throat, keep it there, and we'll prove it works in less than two minutes."

I nod and toss that fucker in my mouth.

He has the remote dismantled and working in one minute and thirty-four seconds.

But only because I helped him when the edges started feeling like they were shredding my throat apart on the inside.

.

.

.

"Charles Swan," I say, checking in.

"He'll be right out. Take a seat over there," the prison guard tells me.

I sit at a table with my chip in my pocket. It was cleared through the warden after he questioned me extensively about it; I showed him all the permits I'd forged, along with the paperwork and signed documents he needed to see.

I sit and breathe deep, going over in my head what I can possibly say to this monster that shot at Bella, stole her money and ideas.

A pang of guilt sweeps through me, since I've stolen from her, too, but I'm not selling it or lying to her about it, making her believe I'm something I'm not.

A woman across the room smiles at me, and though she's attractive and her tits are piled up under her chin in her revealing, tight shirt, I'm not interested.

I turn away and keep my eyes on the door.

Several minutes later, the man I've seen dozens of pictures of, have read and heard about, comes strolling in the door in his prison issued garb.

He stares at me, and those eyes, though they're the same color and shape as Bella's—they hold none of the warmth, intelligence and heart hers do.

An overwhelming urge to jab something in his eyes, overwhelms me, and I have to grip my legs to keep from attacking him and telling him what a worthless piece of shit he is.

He deserves to be behind these bars.

"Who're you?" Charles asks when he sits down.

The guard asks if I want him to stay directly next to us, and I say no.

He takes up a spot near the door where he can still keep an eye on us but can't hear our conversation.

"My name's Edward Cullen, and I'm in love with your daughter."

"P-hah!" he snorts and slaps the table, smiling at me like I'm joking.

"I'm serious. I love her more than anything."

"Then why are you here to see me? Shouldn't you be out, worshiping her?"

"That's exactly why I'm here," I say.

His face drops.

"She sent you after me?" His voice is tight, almost as much as his jaw.

"No. She doesn't know I'm here, and I'm not going to tell her I came to visit you. I came to bring you something, and offer you a deal in exchange for something." I grin.

"Not interested," he says, and motions for the guard.

"Not even if I was to tell you your daughter has placed a trust in your name, in the amount of five-million dollars, and I'm willing to double it if you do this thing for me?"

He puts up a hand to tell the guard to go back to where he was.

"I'm listening," Charles says.

"She loves you; she's hurting, and she's grieving for the father she wishes she had. I can't stand to see her in pain like this. I want you to write to her, ask her to visit. And when she gets here, you're to tell her you love her, even if your black heart is incapable of doing such a thing."

He frowns. "I do love her."

I clear my throat. "Odd way of showing it. Why haven't you ever contacted her if you do?"

"You think I didn't want to?" He smacks the table again, leans toward me, and I can almost see his hackles raised. "I didn't think she wanted anything to do with me after what I did to her, and I was too ashamed to look her in the eyes."

I cross my left ankle over my right leg. "Well, you're gonna get over it real fast, and I'll make sure you can access that money anytime you want to. She set it up so you'd gain access the day after your release."

"Why would she have done this to begin with?" he asks, shaking his head in disbelief.

"She figured if you wanted it so badly, it wasn't worth keeping it away from you."

"I guess." He hunches his shoulders.

"So my friend, Jasper Whitlock, he's in charge of the account now," I tell him.

"Jasper?" he asks like he knows him.

"Yeah."

"Whitlock?"

"Yeah," I say, my brow creasing.

"He's a good man," he replies.

"You know him?"

"Yeah, he served two years, and helped me get ahold of a few items I needed." He blinks and shifts in his seat. "How is he?"

"He's fine," I say, my tone harsh. "I don't wanna talk about him, though."

"Fine, whatta ya wanna talk about then? It seems like you've already laid it all out for me." He looks away, and rolls his eyes.

"You're going to give her this chip. Tell her it's your way of saying sorry, and you can say you stole it from her a long time ago and wanna give it back."

"Why would I do that?"

"Because if you don't, then that money will never be yours."

He barks a laugh. "Whatever the fuck happened to you wasn't a small thing. Let me guess . . . Mom dropped you off on the side of the road and never came back?" He chuckles.

"Nope. Worse. I kissed a girl and fell in love with her. And then her deranged father ruined her life and she was taken away from me because of it. I searched for her for years, and finally found her. Now, listen up, your decrepit old fart—she needs to swallow this thing. If you don't wanna go with this story I made up of how you got this chip, then put it in some food and give it to her that way, but you have to make sure she ingests it."

His eyes go wide and his breath catches. "How'm I supposed to do that?"

"I don't fucking care how—just do it," I say, pushing myself up to standing. "And I'll know the second she swallows it. If you try to give it to someone else, I'll know that as well. It's encrypted to her DNA."

I pat him on the shoulder and give him a patronizing smile.

"Who the hell did you say you were?"

"Vapor, because I'm gone before you even realize I was here," I say and then saunter out of the room.

.

.

.

Three more damn weeks pass by without hearing from her, seeing her, and my remote sits idle, collecting dust.

I've gotta figure out a way to see her, but she's become even more of a recluse as of late.

"Hi, Vapor," Riot says, walking into the room as I sit on his couch, his gun on the coffee table in front of me.

"Where is she?"

"Jesus, not this again. She doesn't want to see you," he huffs and sets his keys down on the table then sits in the seat across from me.

"She does want to see me—she just doesn't realize it yet," I retort.

"Will you listen to yourself? You sound like a stalker or serial killer or some shit." He grips the back of his neck. "Stop this. You have to stop."

"No, _you_ have to stop! You never told me Jasper knew her father," I say, pointing at him, stabbing my finger in the air with each word.

"Look—you asked me to reach out to her and take care of her; I've done that."

"I did not. I didn't know it was her until . . ."

"Well, your father did then, and I figured if he planted me into her life, he'd have told you. I thought you knew." He exhales with a grating sound. "I love her, man. I'm not gonna let you hurt her."

"It's too late for that. And if you ever say you have feelings for her again, you'll be scraping my boot print off the inside of your esophagus. She's mine!" I growl.

"You scared her, and I can see why. You think she wants to be around a criminal that threatens people, steals her stuff and acts like she's his sexual slave?"

"Shit, I . . . What exactly did she tell you about me?"

"You tell me. I know you monitor every damn thing she does." He leans forward, his elbows resting on his knees. "She's not amused by your infantile antics."

I stare at him, unblinking.

"No one is. It's sickening."

"Well, I'm going out of my fucking mind. I need to see her!"

"I don't care. I'm not doing this for you or your father anymore. I don't care if you pay me three times as much as she pays me. She's sweet, and vulnerable, and smarter than anyone I've ever known. It means a lot to me that she trusts me, now get out. She's going to see this anyway, since she has surveillance on my place."

I smile. "I know she does."

"You shithead! That's why you're here? You knew she'd see this and be so enraged she'd come after you?"

I smirk.

"I hope she does worse to you than she did to her father. You disgust me." He grips the cushion on his couch.

"C'mon. You know she won't. She's in love with me. She could've turned me in so many times already, and she hasn't," I say, taunting him.

"Leave."

I look up at where his camera is, and give her an air kiss.

"I'll thank you to keep your fucking hands off my girl, if you don't—"

"You'll what?" He pauses and glares at me, his eyes tormented. "Besides, I've never touched her no matter how much I've wanted to. If there's ever any contact, it's because she's initiated it. She's shy, but you wouldn't know it since you force yourself on her."

A knot slips down my throat and chokes at my stomach, making me a little sick.

"Just keep away."

"I'm sure you've already made sure that happens simply by being here," he replies and then flips me off.

"And next time, if I need to break into your house to steal something she gives you, at least try to hide it better. Any fucker could've come in here, broken into your safe and taken it. This isn't a joke."

"_No_—but you _are_," he spits.

I grab my remote and glide out his front door and look through my phone messages like I've got all the time in the world, leaning up against his wall, next to his front door as I imagine her on her way over, to scream at me until her face turns red.

She predictably stays away.

It's fine.

Eventually, she'll find me.

She can't stay away. There's no way.

I take my time, wandering around the city, hitting a bar on the way home, finally having a drink, even though I know it'll piss her off.

Good. I like seeing her all frothy at the mouth with her eyes blazing at me. It makes her horny as fuck, and that cunt goes super snug as I shove my dick inside her.

My mind drifts on the way home. Most of my thoughts center on how Dad's really fucked this all up by keeping these things from me.

I'm done with him.

I'm done with Jasper.

I'll let him continue to think I'm in the dark, have him keep control over the fund for Charles Swan, but that's it.

He's not messing with any of my inventions or Ide's anymore.

Fucking Ides. God, I miss her so bad, my entire body aches for her, and I die inside over wanting to at least hear her voice.

When I get home, Jasper's gone, and though I'm on guard, I don't fucking care he's out.

He could be giving my dad a blow job, and I wouldn't give a fuck.

I thought I knew him and Dad, but apparently not.

My entire body aches for her.

I lock my door, and I grab the razor in my side table drawer. In a moment, I've got my suture tape ready I invented for her, and I've cleaned the area where it'll go. I make a small nick with the blade in my inner arm, beneath my elbow. The pain is bearable when I breathe in and out real slow and try not to think about it. I set the chip in place and then tape it back up.

Now I'm chipped. She can find me some day if she wants to.

"Lights out," I tell the chip to test it, making sure I rigged it correctly to my specifications for my house and hers.

The lights blink off.

Oh, how I want her to find me.

I want her to _know_ me . . .

God, I hurt.

Riot's fucking hideous words drift through my mind, and I fall asleep, with images of her cowering away from me, and crying in a corner as I try to approach her.

.

.

.

It's been two weeks since I confronted Riot, and still nothing from her or him.

He's gone.

I've been told he's left, and I can barely breathe when I consider her fleeing and disappearing as well.

I'm tempted to go visit her father again, but Jasper assures me Charles has sent her the letter.

Do I believe him?

I'm not sure, but I'm running out of options.

I still can't break into her place, so I've taken to following her around any time she leaves her home, which isn't very often.

Today's her grocery shopping day, and now with Riot out of her life, she has to run these errands herself.

I park closer than usual, needing to be near her.

It's risky, but I don't give a fuck.

She grabs a cart, rushes toward the entrance, her eyes darting around, her shoulders hunched and her hood up, covering her hair.

She's spooked by every little thing, and this time, I follow her inside, taking the chance she'll catch me, rather than sitting out in the parking lot, merely watching her get in and out of her car.

With darting eyes, she creeps along the produce section, grabbing the things she needs. Every so often, she pulls out her hand sanitizer and cleans her hands off.

I smile at the way she frowns when somebody touches a piece of fruit and sets it back down.

She fights off a shiver and roams around, grabbing some more ingredients for what looks to be a massive salad.

When she's done here, she heads down the aisles one at a time. I keep a distance, but she probably knows she's being followed.

I wait for her to ask an employee to send security to keep at her side, but she doesn't.

She goes to pay for her food, and I follow her out, still maintaining a distance.

I wonder if she's a vegan. She didn't buy any dairy or meat.

Another mystery about her I want to unravel.

I head over to my motorcycle as she disappears, but right before she exits the parking lot, I swear she pauses and looks over her shoulder and glances at me.

My heart freezes, but then she leaves.

I tip my head back and a growl rips out of my chest.

Why? Why won't she come to me?

She felt our connection. I know she did.

Is Riot correct? Am I a psycho stalker?

I don't want to hurt her though. I just want her to be happy, so I'm maintaining my distance, but I can't seem to let go.

Fuck. What's my problem?

I sit on my motorcycle, and stare, unseeing at the asphalt.

What now?

What am I supposed to do?

She clearly doesn't want anything to do with me.

I have no idea how long I sit and brood, but after a certain amount of time, I look up, and there she is, walking back inside the grocery store.

The fuck is this about?

I stroll right back in, and this time she's buying meat and dairy.

What the hell?

Once more, I stay back, cautious and wary she might call the cops on me. Not that I couldn't evade them if I wanted to, but still . . .

I just want to watch her for as long as possible since this is all I have.

She pays for her groceries, and this time, she's got a different color cloth grocery bags she's using that she brought from home.

I try to remember the last ones—I wasn't paying that close of attention.

Green. Oh, I get it.

I chuckle deep in my belly.

Green for produce.

Now red, for bloody meat.

God, she's sick. I love it.

And why the ever-loving fuck did she make two separate trips? Was it because she knew she was being watched before?

If that's the case, wouldn't she be too spooked to come back again?

She smears some sanitizer on her hands, pays for her goods and leaves.

All of a sudden, adrenaline rushes through me as I realize she's about to be out of my life again for an extended period of time.

She's in her car, buckled up, and suddenly, out of nowhere, I step in front of her car and slam my hands on the hood.

She stares at me through the windshield, gawking.

I stare back, unblinking and silent, only conveying with my expression how I feel.

_I miss you._

_I want you._

_I die inside for you._

_Why can't you love me?_

_I love you more than anything . . ._

My palms make a hideous noise as I slide them off her hood, then I slowly step away and head back over to my bike.

Her car sits idle, and I can feel her eyes on me as I drive off, leaving a piece of my soul there with her.

She can keep it.

I don't need it anymore.

**A/N:**

**I was asked by one of my betas why Charlie didn't recognize Edward's last name of Cullen. He changed his last name and so did Carlisle. His last name was Masen before Charlie entered prison. Hope that helps…**

**Thank you to my two betas. They're amazing: Sunflower Fanfiction and Anakin Smom.**

**Chanse**


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7: Night Terrors**

_Two weeks ago . . ._

_BPOV_

"But what does it do?" Mr. Cullen asks.

"Well, seeing as how you had it stolen, I figured you already knew," I say, wiping the sweat off the back of my neck.

My knees are locked, and my breathing is shallow. He stands entirely too close, and I can barely think about why I'm here.

He gives me a knowing look, as if he can tell I'm a bundle of nervous energy and scared to death of him.

"Why do you hate me?" I blurt.

"I don't. I've never disliked you, but you're not good enough for my son. He deserves better," he says, stroking my device. "Now, tell me what this does."

"First tell me why I can't see him anymore," I demand.

He blinks and offers a serpentine smile. "Do you know who you're talking to?"

"Y-yes, sir. But I don't see why you sent him after me only to later tell me if I came near him again or allowed him to be around me, you'd kill me." I gulp and shift away from him.

His eyes light up. "I wanted to teach him a lesson."

"What l-lesson?" Damn my vocal chords. Will they stop shaking and making me stutter?

"That I own him. He does what I say, and if I tell him to steal from the girl he's been pining over for most of his life, then he'll do it. If I tell him you're nothing, then he better damn well believe me. And if I tell him to sue your ass and turn you into a beggar, then he's going to do a damn fine job of it. Now," he reaches out and tucks a strand of loose hair behind my ear, and bile tickles at the back of my throat as my stomach clenches, "tell me what this fucking thing does before I have my associate, Emmett here, remove your thumb nails."

My eyes twitch and water. "Okay. No need to break out your clubs. We're all civilized here, I h-hope."

"Yeah, you can hope the moon's made of fucking cheese, too, but it's not gonna get you anywhere. I don't have time to waste. Now tell me."

I pull the back apart on the apparatus. It's small and lime green. Looks similar to a thumb drive, but it has a few buttons on it.

I take a deep breath and start showing him what it does. "Okay, this is what you do."

His eyes follow my fingers as I pull the console closer.

"Go on," he says.

"You point this end of the fatboy at any gaming device and it configures the chip inside so when you bring it home and plug it into the slimboy, it'll download all the games that were played on that gaming device previously. It also mimics all the components inside. So, say I wanted a Nintendo Wii but my mom said no, I already have an X-box, I could use this thing at my friend's house and copy any type of gaming equipment they have. It's a game hoarder, and it's compatible with all current equipment. It was going to go for fifty bucks per fatboy stick. The slimboy was supposed to go for twice that."

"That's impressive," he says with a throaty hum.

I step away. "Yeah, well, I'm practical. I like to game, but I don't want to have fifteen different consoles and a million games scattered all over my place."

"You realize there are other applications that could be used for this as well," he muses.

I shrug. "That's your fucking problem now, since you've stolen it and taken over. I wash my hands of this project now."

He smiles and takes it out of my fingers.

My hand shrinks away from him, and I instinctively rub my palm down my pants, like he's covered in slimy germs.

"You should see a doctor about that," he says, glancing over at my now flexing hand.

"And you should see a doctor about your kleptomania and egotistical tendencies. I'm sure there's some medication for both."

I cup my mouth when I realize Emmett's armed and standing directly behind me, ready to do this man's bidding.

"I can see why my son's so infatuated with you."

My hand slips off my mouth. "We just fucked a few times—that's all. He's nothing to me, and I'm sure he's already forgotten about me . . ." For once in my goddamn life, I lie and keep a straight face.

I have to.

_Protect Edward from this evil man . . ._

"She's not aware he's following her around. He hasn't forgotten about her," Emmett pipes in.

I shoot him a death glare.

"Look, Carlisle, I just don't want him to get hurt. That's all I ask. I'll even skip town if I have your word you won't hurt Edward." I swallow a grapefruit sized lump of guilt, and chills race down my back at the prospect of never seeing Edward again. My shoulders bunch up around my ears and my head tips back a little.

I'm sure I look like a turtle, pulling its neck into its shell.

I wish. I wish I could hide from this scary fucker, but there's nowhere to go.

Edward said his father had connections, and he was telling the truth.

"No, you'll stay. He needs this hard lesson. You need to be in sight but just out of reach."

My face falls and my throat goes dry. "Why?" I croak.

"Because I want him to grow up, and you need to quit asking questions and being a nosy bitch," he says.

He towers over me, glaring, and I cower away.

"I'll stay away from him," I whisper.

"Good. Now leave. I don't want you coming here ever again. I allowed it this once because I needed you to show me how this thing worked, but other than that . . ." Carlisle turns away to leave.

"Does Edward even know you stole it from him?" I ask and then bite my tongue, trying to shut my big fat mouth.

"No. He'll probably think you took it back." He shrugs.

"But won't that defeat the purpose of what you just told me? If he thinks I took it, he'll try to get it back, and how am I supposed to keep him away?"

He flies at me, and grips me by the shoulders. "You know how. You've been jerking him around all this time, allowing him to break your defenses, but you and I both know, you've been deliberately holding back. Tighten up your home defenses. No more of these childish games. Either you keep him out, or _I_ will." His murderous look has my arms breaking out in goose bumps.

When he breaks his grip on me, I gasp and slump over, my hands wrapping around the spots he touched me.

It tingles and almost feels like he burned me.

He's out the door, and Emmett is suddenly at my side, holding me up by supporting me with an arm around my shoulders.

"You okay, Ides?"

"Don't call me that," I mutter and lean into him.

Wetness spews out of my eyes, and my tummy spasms as I try to take in some air.

"He won't hurt you . . . I won't let him," Emmett reassures me as he gives me a side hug.

"Yes, but what about Edward?"

He exhales and keeps his thoughts to himself.

Fuck. That's what I thought . . .

.

.

.

_Present day . . ._

I step back inside my house, and Riot's curved around his laptop, working on something.

"Hey," I say and shuffle into the kitchen.

"You okay? You look like shit," he says, now staring at me, his eyes wide.

"Had a little run in with Edward today." I blow out a puff of air through my pursed lips. "I don't know how I can keep him safe if he keeps following me around."

He pushes his laptop off his legs and springs up from the couch.

"That's _it_—I'm not gonna let you go out anymore. You'll stay home, and I'll get whatever you need," he says, hovering.

He opens his arms with a look of hope that I'll let him hug and comfort me.

I can't. I won't.

It feels wrong. I'd feel like I was betraying Edward. Emmett hugging me was one thing . . . But _this_? No way.

"You're not supposed to exist," I say, reminding him.

I open the fridge, grab two sodas and hand him one.

"I'm here to protect you. I told those fuckers I wasn't working for them anymore. I'm sure they've figured out I'm here by now," he says.

"How would they? I took the grid down around my house. They can't hack into any of my security no matter what they do. And you haven't left since I snuck you in here. Your car's gone. How'll they know?" I flip the tab off the soda can, scrub the top down then open it with my own special opener. I pour mine into a pre-approved glass.

Once I've taken a few sips, my nerves have reduced some, enough so I can breathe again.

My head pounds and my legs tremble under me.

"Sit down. Let's figure out how we can protect him," he says, a slight grimace on his face.

"Thanks, Riot, but I'm not going to drag you into this any further than I already have."

I walk over to the couch and fall into the seat.

When my feet go up on the coffee table, his eyes go wide and he wears a crooked grin.

"Well, I want to help somehow." He leans over and removes my shoes for me.

"Thank you. And don't you dare sanitize this table for me tomorrow since I put my feet here," I say, smirking.

He chuckles. "You know me so well."

"Only because you know me so well." I take another sip.

"I can't help it, Bella. You know how I feel about you." He drops to his knees next to me, and his eyes go soft. "I'd do anything for you."

I blink and my heart slips into my spleen. "God, I shouldn't have brought you here—I'm hurting you, and I don't want that. I don't mean to."

"No, no, it's not like that," he says, inching toward me, his hand goes to the arm rest on the couch, very close to touching me.

I look at his hand and shift away from him. "I know how you feel, I do—but I'm sorry, I just don't feel the same way."

"Maybe in time, you will . . ." His eyes mist.

"No, Riot. I don't think so. I've had a few boyfriends over the years, and it was cruel of me to be with any of them because I knew I couldn't love them. I've only ever loved Edward," I explain, my voice soft.

I scoot away from him.

"That's because you never let yourself try. You'd be safe with me, and I wouldn't push you into it. I'd be patient. Hell, I'd wait a million years for you to feel even a fraction of what I feel for you." He blinks and tears gather at the corners of his eyes.

I have to look away.

"Maybe we should . . ."

"Yes, Bella, fuck—let's try," he says.

He must think he's completing my thought for me.

"Maybe we should stop talking about this. I'm tired, and I don't want to hurt you any more than I already have. I'm thinking we need to find you somewhere else safe to be for a little while at least." I stand up, and he follows me toward my room.

I turn and brace myself with a hand on the wall. My head drops, and I look up at him through my lashes, trying to hide my facial expressions. I feel like absolute shit.

"I can't love you—because my entire heart, body and soul belong to someone else, and I won't take them back because I don't fucking want to," I say so quiet, it looks like he's leaning forward to hear me.

I turn around, head into my room, and say, "Lock down room."

The locks do their job, and before I can think, I've told the chip to open my window, and I'm climbing out.

I have to see him. Even if it's just from a distance . . .

.

.

.

I sit on Edward's bed, inhaling his scent.

I can do it if I want. I already turned off his security scanners.

His dad won't know I was here.

Neither will Edward.

He's gone.

So is Jasper.

I unlock Edward's computer, infiltrate his hard drive and then break into his father's surveillance system.

Edward's not there in his dad's home either.

I find Edward's notes for the chip he's inserted in his arm.

God, watching the video footage of him doing that, had me freaking out.

Doing it himself? What the fuck was he thinking?

I pull out my hand sanitizer and wipe down his side table for him.

He never cleaned it thoroughly after performing that procedure on himself.

When I'm done, I lie down on his bed and stretch out.

What if I fall asleep and let him find me here?

I slip the fatboy two into the slot on the side of his laptop and download all his secrets.

_Yes, Carlisle, I know the fatboy can do a lot more than what I intended it for. I'm not an idiot. I know exactly what it can mean, and I've already beaten you to it._

I flip him off wherever he is as I continue to siphon Edward's information.

_Rrrrrrruuuuuugggaaah . . . Rrrrrruuuuuggggaaaahhh . . . _

The unmistakable sound of Edward's motorcycle rumbles into his garage.

The fatboy slurps up the last juicy remnants, and suddenly, I know I have to leave.

He can't see me here.

I've put him in danger.

I pull the fatboy out, shove it in my pocket, put his laptop back where I found it, and as I'm climbing back out the window, the way I came in, a hand lands on my ankle, yanking.

I turn, and with apologetic eyes, kick Edward's hand off me.

He sucks in a gasp of air. "No! _Stay_!"

I quickly climb out, and I run as fast as my legs can carry me.

I've run and saved him.

I drive home, tuck myself back up in my room, and the rest of the night I go through all of his information on my laptop.

Oh, fuck.

"Edward . . . You can't do this!" I bite my lip and fight off the impending tears.

.

.

.

"Dad," I say as mirror images of my eyes stare at me.

"Bella, I . . . I wasn't sure you got my letters," he says, blinking back at me, his face pale and his voice soft.

His hands stretch out on the table before me.

"I got them, and I'm here. I know you hate me, but I had to come," I tell him.

He holds his breath and then exhales in a rush. "I don't hate you at all. God, Jesus, I . . . I was a shitty father to you, and I regret that every damn day. How was I ever supposed to face you after I tried to kill you?"

"You and I both know if you'd wanted to kill me, you would've. Your bullet missed me on purpose." I lean back in my chair to create a little bit of distance.

"Well, you know I do have good aim, but I was . . . Hell, I don't know what I was. I just knew the cops were coming, and it was your fault."

"Yeah, it was my fault I called them, but it was your fault you were stealing my ideas and selling them off. Wasn't it enough I was already allowing you to skim off the top?"

"You knew?" His eyes grow large.

"Of course I knew. I monitored my money and yours." I cross my arms over my chest and look away. This feels like a monumental mistake. I shouldn't have come.

Just as I'm about to push off the table and leave, he turns one hand over and there's a chip sitting in his cupped palm.

"What's this?" I lean forward, dropping my arms to my sides.

"It's a chip. I made it for you. It'll keep you safe," he says, and his eyes lie.

"Bullshit. You didn't make this," I grit.

He chuckles and swipes his other hand over his face. "Okay, I didn't make it, but it'll keep you safe, regardless."

"From whom?"

He settles his weight onto the edge of his seat. "From a very bad man that wants to hurt you, and I'd really like to help, but since I'm stuck in here, this is the best I can do."

"From whom?" I repeat.

"Jesus, Bella, I can't tell you that. It'll only put you in more danger," he says then smacks his lips closed for a second. "Will you just take it?"

"I've got pepper spray," I say, my nostrils flaring.

"Pepper spray is great when a stray dog is chasing you down the street. These people not only bark, they bite, and when they do, you won't be able to recover. Please . . ." His eyes tear up. "I can't lose you. And this is the only way I know how to redeem myself and say sorry."

"I don't need you to say sorry, I just need you to be my dad," I say, my voice wavering, thick with emotion.

"Please, take it." He shoves his palm toward me.

"No."

"Fuck Edward, then. I'll flush this thing he made down my toilet after I piss on it!" he grinds through his teeth.

Edward?

In a flash, I've got it in my hand, and I've swallowed it down.

His eyes go wide and he gasps.

I stand up and _swwwwwwaaaack_!

"Fuck you! Don't you ever say his name or speak to him again!" I smack him once more and leave before I say something stupid like I hope he rots in his cell.

As I drive off, I wonder why in the fuck I even came here.

I knew Edward came here.

I saw it in his files, the letter he composed that my dad obviously transcribed into his own handwriting and sent to me.

Bastard, Charlie!

Tears race down my cheeks and once I'm home, I'm restless.

Riot's been avoiding me ever since I told him I can never love him.

I step inside and find him on the couch, his hands clasped together and resting on his lap.

"You saw your dad, didn't you?"

"Yeah, I did," I say, sounding out of breath.

"Why?"

"He had contact with Edward. I want to protect them both," I say.

"I don't get you—both of these men have done nothing but hurt you, yet you push me away, when all I've done is tried to love you and treat you well."

I double over, clutch my knees and take in a long, winded breath. "I think we need to get you out of here; you're not safe."

"Ides! I'm fucking talking to you about us!" he yells.

"There is no us! How many times do I have to tell you this?" I holler.

"There would be if you'd stop this!"

I grab his leather jacket, slung over the back of the chair next to me and throw it at him. "Put this on. We're leaving. We can't stay here. We can talk about this in the car!"

He's motionless and his jaw pops open. "Why the hell would we leave? This place is a fortress."

"Because I swallowed a goddamn chip Edward made, and who fucking knows what it's going to do! I don't want you getting hurt because of this." I choke on several sobs until suddenly, he's off the couch, and he's pulled me into his arms.

I beat at his chest, pushing him away. "No! No! I won't!"

"Bella, c'mon. I'm not gonna do anything," he says, his voice low and soft.

"I can't . . . I love him, and I can't live without him anymore. I want him to find me. I want to run out in the street and scream until he takes me away from this," I cry, fisting his shirt and tucking my face into him so he can't see the anguished faces I'm making.

"Okay . . . We'll go wherever you want."

He pets my hair.

"We'll go to San Diego. I have a few friends there, and then we need to split from each other. I need to go into serious hiding, and I'll be moving around a lot, I think this is the best way," I ramble.

Snot drips down my upper lip and I snort a laugh. Edward would've taken care of that for me if he was here, but he's not.

And now he won't ever find me.

I'll go have my stomach pumped first, and then we'll leave.

"We need to get that chip out of you," he says.

"I know. Urgent Care?" I ask.

"No, I can get it out of you," he replies.

"I'm not going to force myself to puke," I say, pulling away.

His arms stay extended, his hands resembling claws.

I shudder at the thought I allowed him touch me.

Not only could he be covered in germs, but he's not Edward, and I simply can't bear it.

I need my Vapor.

I need his touch, his voice in my ear.

I need Riot gone.

"Don't do this . . ." His face drops as I back away. "I want to help."

"Are you going to hurt me to get this thing out?"

"No. Well, I don't know if it'll hurt, but there's something I've been working on, and oddly enough, I think it'll do what we need it to." He grins sheepishly.

"What is it?"

"Let me show you," he says, leading me over to his workstation of sorts.

I've relegated a section of the living room over to him so he could work in peace.

I never pry, but if he wants to show me something, I'm happy to see and give feedback.

"It's kind of a mini, metal detector," he says, smiling. "I created it so . . ."

"So if I walk into your shop with my fatboy, you know I've got it in my pocket," I say.

He blinks and nods, but his head barely moves.

"Sorry . . . I'm not trying to undermine you, but it's . . . Well, it's about supply and demand in the business."

I take a deep breath and say, "It's fine. I do get it." I stare at the small metal object, no bigger than a bottle cap. "It's attracted to microchips and microprocessors, and it's even got a magnetic pull on it. I can strengthen the intensity so it can make the chip inside you come back up."

"That sounds incredibly painful."

His head snaps back and he gives me an incredulous look. "And _what_? Getting your stomach pumped is going to be a picnic on a wonderful spring day? That shit's gonna hurt just as badly. You shouldn't have swallowed it." He hands me his piece.

"What's it called?" I ask.

"It's called the Ides of Time." He snickers.

I laugh and swipe it out of his hand. "Get a new name, you silly man, 'cause even I know that's kinda morbid."

He covers his mouth as he chuckles and takes a seat.

"Okay, settle it over your stomach, and it probably should be skin to skin."

"You're just trying to get me naked," I say, quirking a brow at him.

"Maybe." He shrugs.

"Fix the intensity of the pull then I'll turn around and slip it inside my shirt."

He bites his lip at the corner and tries to hide his smile.

"You're really enjoying this, aren't you?"

"Maybe," he repeats.

His belly bounces with a silent laugh.

"Fucker—I need this out," I say, kicking the couch next to his leg.

"All right, all right. Patience . . ." He types in a few commands a moment later and tells me it's ready.

I turn around, slip it under my shirt, and it's the oddest sensation to feel this tugging sensation inside my gut. Even stranger is the pull on the Ides of Time as I direct it in a northerly direction. It's like playing with a Ouija board—like some unseen specter is directing it.

A few seconds later, I'm choking it back up. And as soon as it's out, I gag out a, "Oh, fuck! That's gross!"

I go running through the house with a glob of mucous on my hand, surrounding a chip.

I drop it in the sink as I proceed to vomit right next to it.

Riot's hand juts out and he snatches the chip up.

"Don't take it!" I screech through bouts of throwing up so forcefully, I can barely breathe.

"I'm just cleaning it up," he says.

He stays at my side, does as he said he would, and then sets it on the counter next to me.

I proceed to bark out orders, and he follows them implicitly.

After brushing my teeth twice, using mouthwash and then a vinegar rinse, I can stop gagging and retching.

"Thank you," I manage to whimper as I head to my room with the chip inside my fist.

"You're welcome." He smiles, but it's tight, and he looks lost.

Well, fuck. I can't deal with that look, so I lock myself up in my room.

It's gonna be a long night as I unravel the contents of this chip.

**A/N:**

**Thank you to my two betas. They're amazing: Sunflower Fanfiction and Anakin Smom.**

**Happy Easter to those of you who celebrate it!**

**Chanse**


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8: Lights and Flights**

_EPOV_

"Holy shit! She's done it!" I jump and snag at the remote.

She swallowed the chip.

Finally. Thank God!

I've been following her around on my bike, but now she can come back to me.

I'm sick of seeing her in sporadic spurts and from too many fucking feet away.

I pace my room as I wait for the device to send the impulse to her brain.

The button's been pushed, and I'm dying to have her at my door.

But fuck.

Jasper's here.

I don't want him anywhere near her.

So I grab the remote, shove it in my pocket, then grab a bag and start packing.

I'll hole up in a hotel somewhere.

I'll want her all to myself. There's gonna be a lot of loud fucking involved, and I don't want him thinking she's being slaughtered when she'll really just be orgasming as many times as she can.

My hands shake and drop things as I try to hurry and ram my shit into a duffel bag.

When I'm all packed and ready to go, I simply wave at Jasper and tell him, "Later, man."

"Hey, your dad's on his way," he says.

"Good for him," I reply.

"He's pissed. You better stick around." He motions with his chin at my bag slung over my right shoulder.

"I don't give a fuck if he's shitting lightning bolts, I'm leaving." I pull the bag tighter into my body.

"He knows . . ."

"Knows what?" I groan and roll my eyes.

"He knows you've been following her."

"_And_?" I motion with my hand for him to hurry up and tell me whatever it is he has to say.

"And, he already told you to keep away from her; what do you think you're doing, following her all the time? I mean, shit, she's just buying groceries. What's so great about watching her shop?"

"Fuck you, and your fucking stupid big mouth. Why'd you tell him anyway? Jealous?"

"No, man. You know I don't care about your love life." He shoves his book aside he had propped open on his lap. Looks like some type of manual.

"Then why?" I drop my bag off my shoulder and into my hand.

"Because I don't have a death wish. Your dad owns me. I owe him, pure and simple. He saved my life, and now I have to repay him."

"That's bullshit," I say through my clenched teeth. "You don't owe him anymore, and he pays you anyway, so that clearly signifies he thinks you've repaid your debt."

"Look—I was half-dead when your dad took me in. I was such a druggie, stealing petty shit to pay for my habit—and nobody else would give me a job when I got out of prison; your dad was right there. Gave me a place to stay, food to eat and a job with a purpose."

"Pssst! Fucking _job_—that's what you call this? You're his lackey, and nothing more. He's using your ass just like he does everyone else." I drop my bag to the floor and take three steps toward him, stalking with my teeth bared. "He. Doesn't. Give. A. Shit. About. You. Or. Anyone. Else." I point at him. "You think he even cares about me? I realized after he told me to keep away from Bella, that he was heartless. No one that loves their son would do that. I'm crazy about her—she's everything to me. I'm done being a thief for him and running his little circuits. He can fuck off and find some other idiot to do his evil bidding, 'cause I'm done." I march back over to my bag and pick it back up.

_Rap, rap, rap, rap._

I freeze.

"It's him," Jasper says.

No shit. My shoulders drop and my head falls forward.

And then an icy rake spears its way down my spine. Oh God, no!

Bella might come here.

I pressed that goddamn button, and my father's here.

"Buy me some time!" I hiss and race to my room with the remote clutched tightly in my hands.

I squeeze it tight as I try to reverse whatever I did to tell her to come here.

But I don't know how.

I never thought I'd want to send her away.

"Oh, God, oh Jesus, fuck!" I mutter, hitting buttons and hoping I'm doing something right.

"Edward . . ." Jasper calls through my door.

"A minute, please!" I shout.

_Rap, rap, rap._

"Fucking give me a minute, I said!" I yell louder.

"Son, you better open this goddamn door right now or she's gonna get a bullet," Dad says.

My jaw clenches tight, my eyes slide up in my head, and I close my eyes while my head drops back.

I tuck the remote into my pocket, and pray to God she won't arrive when he's here.

My feet glide over to the door on their own, because I'll be damned if I told them to do that.

My hands follow suit, and open the door.

"Whatta ya want?" I snap.

"To see my disobedient son," he says.

"For what?" I lean into the door, keeping it open.

"To tell you this stops now. She's gone. She's left, and she's not coming back, and if you go after her, you're no longer my son. I'll have no control over what my men do to you. You'll be considered an enemy, and they don't take kindly to anyone against our organization."

"Jesus, Dad, you act like you're the mafia ringleader or something."

He blinks and smiles. "Call it whatever the fuck you wish—just stay here. You're not to get involved with her and her little problems."

I curse under my breath and swallow the massive lump in my throat.

"And just to make sure you realize I'm serious—she's with him." He crosses his arms over his chest and stretches his neck from side to side.

"Emmett?" My eyes narrow and my neck slants away from him as I give him a look of disgust.

"No, Emmett's to watch you, since I know he has a personal vendetta against you."

"Then who's she fucking with?" I yell, spit flying out of my mouth and spraying the air.

"Riot, that punk who's in love with her, _that's_ who. He's been guarding her like he's her little lost puppy. It's kind of cute in a ridiculous sort of way." He chuckles and almost bounces out of the hallway.

The front door shuts, and he's gone.

I slide down to the ground, and my head pounds like I've had a knife jammed into it.

Why would she leave?

Did he do this?

What is his problem with us being together?

"He's gone," Jasper calls out.

"Yeah, thanks," I say, my tone biting.

_Think, Edward . . . Where would she go?_

_The remote!_

Maybe if I leave, she'll follow like I originally thought.

Before I can dwell on how fucked up my dad is and how I hope he chokes on his meal tonight and dies, I'm on my bike, my bag stowed away, and for some strange reason, I'm headed to California.

I need to be far away from that man, and his sick regime.

The remote vibrates in my pocket, but I can't stop where I am now to see what it's doing.

I keep driving, heading out of Phoenix.

When I finally stop to get some gas and fuel up, I check the remote and there's some scrambled message I can't decipher on the small screen.

"What the hell does this mean?" I rub my jaw and squint my eyes, hoping it'll come to me, and I'll figure it out.

Nothing makes sense.

Not without her.

I drive for several hours with one single thought in my head . . . _I'll find her_.

She'll be there, waiting for me.

It almost blinds me, making it difficult to drive.

My eyes sting; my hands ache from gripping the handlebars for hours.

But when I arrive in San Diego, this odd peace settles over me.

She's here—I can _feel_ it.

In my bones, in my blood—I know I'll have her again.

I pull into the parking lot of the San Diego Marriott Hotel, looking completely grimy and disheveled.

As I walk inside and start trying to check in, the desk clerk looks me over and wrinkles his nose.

"You sure you're in the right place?" he asks.

"Yeah, I'm sure," I say, my voice tight and my voice raspy from dehydration. "Just give me a room already!"

I pull out a wad of cash and shove it at him.

"A back room okay? The view's lousy, but it's the best I can do on last minute notice. We've got a few seminars here this weekend," he says.

"Like what? Mary Kay's launch of pimple pure foundation?" I snort in aggravation.

"No, nothing like that; smaller companies. But we're also damn near full to capacity because of Comic Con," he says.

"Oh, Jesus," I grunt and roll my eyes. "Yeah, it's fine. Give me the key."

He hands it to me and almost flinches like he thinks I'm gonna deck him.

I chuckle, swing my bag further back behind me and walk off.

_Bella, please be here . . ._

I saunter to the elevator, ride it up to the third floor, and shove my way into my door, then drop my bag on the floor.

The second I fall into bed, I'm out.

.

.

.

_BPOV_

_One day earlier…_

"We have to go," I tell myself.

But my hands won't stop scrubbing the Formica and sink.

"I'm all done," Riot says.

He's finished detailing the coffee table I'd set my feet on last night—the one job I'd told him not to do when my feet were parked there. But I couldn't say no once he offered to clean it again.

I can barely see, my vision blurring from lack of sleep, but I keep cleaning.

"I'm almost done as well," I say, my knuckles raw from scrubbing repeatedly in the same spot.

I run the black light over it once more. It's better, but there're still germs on my Formica. I suppose it's not the end of the world since we're leaving anyway, but fuck. I don't like this.

I fight off a shiver, and it feels like tiny microscopic ants are marching across my spine.

"Go finish packing, and I'll get this done for you," he says, stepping up behind me.

I hand him the cleaning supplies and head back to my room.

The bag's open. I toss in the cuffs, the ropes Edward's left behind, along with a blindfold and gag I've purchased. I may need to use these on Riot if he becomes difficult and tries to stay with me once we get there.

I pack up my laptop along with a few of my inventions I'm working on I don't want to lose track of.

My face scrunches as I place the chip I'd puked up, in my pocket and head out.

A pang of longing hits me, almost crippling me. My body bends forward at the waist, and I set my hands on the edge of the bed as I gasp for air.

I should implant it in my body.

I like the idea of Edward being able to read my body's signals somehow. Jesus, that's insanely hot.

I grab my remote I've created over the last few weeks. The antidote to what Edward took from me.

_Retrieve this, my love . . ._

I hit the button, and gloat to myself.

He'll have no idea what's hit him.

"Okay, I'm ready," I shout to Riot.

When I walk out to the kitchen, he smiles, puts away the cleaning supplies, and like I've shown him, he goes through the kitchen, shutting everything down that has to be manually handled.

"Power down," I tell the chip inside me, and the house does as I ask.

"I'm ready now, too." He grabs a soda, raises it to me and pops it open, taking a healthy swig then joins me at my side as I head out to the garage.

"You're gonna take _this_ one?" he asks me as I set my bag in my car Edward had stolen over two months ago.

"Yep."

"Why?"

"I have my reasons."

His brow creases, and he offers a half shrug, stuffs his bag in the back next to mine and gets in.

"You sure you've got everything you need?" he asks.

"I'm sure. I won't ever have to come back to this place if I don't want to," I reply.

I start the engine, open the garage door and we drive off.

And I don't care if anybody sees Riot's with me.

Let them know.

I'll have Riot in hiding again in a few hours, and then I'll cease to exist.

I won't matter, so neither will he.

"You seem awfully calm, considering we're executing our own public death," he tells me.

"We're not faking our deaths—we're just morphing into new identities, that's all."

"That's _all_?" His voice breaks. "Really? We're gonna part ways, I won't have any clue what you're changing your name to, and you'll forget all about me." His hand smacks on his thigh and he stares out the side window.

"I won't forget about you. I'll be keeping tabs," I say, my voice sounding more irritated than I want it to.

He's hurting, and I sound like he's a burden. That's not what he is to me; I just don't know how to do this—to let him know I care without sounding like I'm leading him on.

"Goodie." He huffs.

"You're my best friend, and you have been for a long time now. I don't have anyone else but you that I confide in. Of course I won't ever forget about you," I say, my voice softer. I reach out and touch his hand.

He startles and when he turns his head to look at me, there's a melding of emotions swimming in his eyes: sorrow, regret, love, hope, and friendship.

"It hurts and heals to hear that, and I don't know what to say." His eyes go soft and then heavy.

"I'm sorry." I take a breath then hold his hand. "I wanna be there for you, since you've meant so much to me, but I don't want to hurt you any more than I already have."

He smiles in an understanding way. "You're not. This _does_ help."

"Good. I'm glad." I pull onto the freeway on-ramp, and divert my attention for a moment. "Let's talk about how we're going to handle this when we get there." I suck my lips in as a car behind me gets closer than I'm comfortable with.

Is this person tailing me?

I swallow the scruffy, dry lump in my throat and a second later, it's back when the lights on the car behind flash at me.

The car speeds around me, and I'm flipped off.

"Jeez," I groan. "Impatient prick."

"What a jerk," he agrees.

I shake my head and go back to my original thoughts. "Okay, so at the hotel. We'll probably be on separate floors, but it should be fine."

My phone vibrates in my pocket. I'm sure it's a text.

About time. I contacted him yesterday . . .

"We'll meet up at the Walking Dead panel at Comic Con."

He chuckles. "I still can't believe you were able to get tickets at the last minute."

I sigh. "Oh, Riot, Riot, _Riot _. . . Lest you forget, I have connections and a fuck-load of money I don't do anything with other than amass it and put it right back into my company for research on my inventions. It wasn't hard."

"Nothing's ever hard for you," he says and squeezes my hand.

Except Edward . . .

.

.

.

_EPOV_

"Shhh . . ." A soft hand covers my mouth.

I jerk awake, and as I try to kick away whoever's next to me, their body follows along with me.

And the next thing I know, I'm cuffed to the headboard, a gag's around my mouth and I'm blindfolded.

I couldn't see who it was, since it was dark.

But they're breathing hard.

I yank at my wrists, but I'm not going anywhere.

"Listen," they whisper.

I'm not even sure if this is a guy or not; they're dressed all in black and my vision was blurry.

I kick my legs, bang my back into the wall, thrash and try to be as noisy as possible.

They grab my legs one at a time, and ropes now surround my ankles and stretch me out so I can no longer be loud with my body, flailing around.

I choke on my anger, and scream as loud as I can, but it's muffled and comes out a garbled mess of gibberish.

My head slams back and forth.

"Shhhh . . ." They touch me. It's light and seems hesitant even though they're wearing gloves.

I go rigid and stop moving around so violently.

The hand checks my cuffs, but for what I'm not sure.

It seems like they're ensuring they're not biting into my flesh and doing damage.

"It's for your own good," they whisper.

I whimper a dying moan.

Is it her?

I can't tell.

And then _click_ . . .

A door closes, and fuck! I'm alone. Left like this until who knows when?

Until the cleaning crew finds me?

The remote's still in my pocket. I can feel it up against me.

If it was Bella, wouldn't she have taken it with her?

Christ! I'm so fucked.

For an interminable amount of time, I drift in and out of sleep since I can't do anything else.

My arms are numb, and my feet try to move every few seconds to keep me aware, but what's the point?

_Cliiiick._

The door opens, and I'm shaking now.

What if this is one of Dad's men, messing with me?

What if they tied me up to make me piss myself before they off me?

And what if they go after Bella since I disobeyed him?

My cuffs are released, and before I punch a fucker in the face, or try to, since I can't see, my wrists are bound together with some kind of rope.

My ankles are released next and I'm heaved over some big guy's shoulder.

"Fuck, he's heavy," the guy groans.

"Shhh . . ." the same voice from before says.

I go limp and desperately try to see out of the bottom of the blindfold, but they've used one that's thick and solid—I can't see a fucking thing.

"Where do you want him?" the guy's voice asks.

He shifts his weight, turns, and the ambient temperature of the room changes.

I think I'm in the hallway now, but I can't tell.

There's a metallic scratching sound, and then another door opens.

A few steps, and I'm dropped onto another bed.

I'm spread out on the mattress again, and as I fight and kick, hands try to soothe me before securing me into place.

Only this time, I'm face down.

I whimper as my hair's pulled and something cool and metal is poked into the back of my neck.

_Cliiiick, cliiiick, cllliiiiick!_

Shit! Is it a gun they're cocking?

Then they do the same thing to my inner arm.

Why would they do this?

Something sharp slices into my arm; I grunt and sob at the pain.

A second later, something warm and stinging, is placed over the wound.

Sticky oozy, crud, rolls down my arm.

My legs tense and my spine turns into a rod.

I close my eyes and tears leak out.

I can't even beg for my life since I'm gagged.

_Oh, please, don't hurt Bella . . ._

My heart pounds and feels wrenched open when suddenly, they release my hair and the metallic object disappears.

The next thing I know . . . The remote's slipped out of my pocket.

Oh fuck! A door shuts.

They're gone.

They'll find her.

She's dead!

Why did I come here?

The center of my body flops around like a speared fish.

I choke on the racking sobs I emit, until something sharp pinches the back of my neck, and I slip into unconsciousness, where maybe I can find her once more.

**A/N:**

**Each year I wish I could go to Comic Con. Someday, when my kids are all grown, I'll be the nerdy lady in her fifties, drooling over the Walking Dead cast if the show's still going by then. Hee hee! Love me some Daryl Dixon.**

**Sorry this chapter is shorter than usual, but I figured it was tense enough, we don't need to drag that out, do we? No one wants thiefward to bite it, I hope . . .**

**Also, Slick as Ides is over on the Lemonade Stand. You can vote for it to be fic of the week if you feel so inclined… I put the link in my profile if you want to check it out. There are 2 days left to vote…**

**Chanse**


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9: Rubbed the Wrong Way**

_BPOV_

"God, where are you?" I say to myself, under my breath.

Is he dressed like a zombie? I can't freaking find him!

I wade through the sea of people, awaiting the panel.

I ignore all the dirty looks people give me as I make my way toward the front.

That's where Stormy said she'd be, so I can at least find her.

"Hey," I say, yanking on her ponytail when I spot the back of her head.

She turns around and knows better than to give me a hug, but I do receive a giant smile.

"How was your drive over?" she asks.

"It was good. Riot was pouting some, but it was all right."

It's hard to hear her with all of the fans screaming as the cast of the show is about to come out.

This is why I chose this place.

This is why it works. We're moving around, it's loud, it's chaotic.

No one can track our conversations here, and I have no technology on me, other than the new phone and the chip.

And I just bought the phone twenty minutes ago at a random shop.

"Is he here?" she asks.

"He should be; I'm lookin' for him," I answer. "He seems to be hiding amidst all the zombie lovers."

She smiles wider. "He sounds really cool."

I grin. I've been talking him up to her for the last few weeks—knowing he needed to find another woman with the same interests as me. He needs to get laid.

And she's always a horny pervert with the same hobbies as him.

"Show me again," she says.

"I can't. I don't have my phone on me," I tell her. "But you already know he's good looking."

"Mmm . . . I really like blonds, and you said he has dark brown eyes, right?"

When I'm about to answer her, I look over her shoulder, and Riot's at the edge of the crowd, scowling at me.

"There he is—over there," I say, keeping my hand down low and pointing at him. "C'mon. I'll introduce you."

She stays in her spot and gives me a look like she needs a minute. "And what if I can't stand him?"

"Then you drop him off at the pre-approved location. He can get back to my place and reconfigure all of the settings, then stay there until he figures out a better place to hide, but really," I pause and puff out my cheeks, "it's just temporary. I only need you to put him up for a week."

She nods and then follows me through the crowd. He looks scared to death and green, like he's about to vomit.

When we get close enough, I smile and call him over, "Riot—I've got someone for you to meet."

"Great," he mumbles.

"This is one of my few trustworthy friends, Stormy," I tell him.

"What's your real name?" he asks her.

"Linda," she replies. Her eyes rake over him, he grins like a big ol' dork and she blushes when his eyes hone in on her breasts—much larger than mine.

"You'll be leaving with her, and staying with her for a week until the next driver can pick you up; they'll keep taking you north to Washington State. There's a secured place for you there." I pull the phone out of my pocket. "This is brand new. It has a tracking device in it. Keep it on you at all times until you get to the destination."

He nods, but his eyes remain on Stormy.

I chuckle low and quiet. "Stormy, this guy's a liar, uh, I mean lawyer," I grin, "and they're known to be the biggest crooks on the face of the planet, so never take your eyes off him."

She turns to me and looks at me like I'm insane. "Then why do you trust him?"

"I don't. I always have my eyes on him. Ask him—I monitored his computer and his house," I reply.

He barks a laugh. "Yeah, she was hoping to see me naked."

"Yeah, I'll bet," Stormy says under her breath.

"Okay, I've gotta get back to my room. Some unfinished business," I say and slide out of the way.

When I turn around at the last second, before leaving the room, they're already chatting away and he's smiling so big, I think he's probably broken a crucial facial muscle required for drinking.

"Bye," I say to them, though I know they can't hear me.

He'll be just fine.

I glide over to the elevator, and whistle on the way up.

This went better than expected.

Riot can have a good time at Comic Con, he can get to know a beautiful and slightly eccentric woman that's as big a hacker as he is, and I can escape into the night without him even realizing it.

I sigh when I get to my room, smile and check to make sure the door's still locked.

It is.

I scratch at it, and a moment later, it's opened.

"Hey," I say, no longer trying to hide my voice through a Batman-scratchy-whisper. "How is he?"

"He's fine," Emmett answers, letting me in.

"Why didn't you untie him after I left?" I ask.

"Call it payback for this bastard screwing up my car lifting operations," he says, smiling.

"Aw, you know you didn't really need to keep doing that. After what I paid you to watch out for him," I say, and step around him.

"That's true, but there's no fun in following his stupid ass around. Especially not when his only move is to _follow_ you," he says, laughing.

"Yeah, but it was fun for me to hear about it after the fact." I walk over to Edward and sit down next to him.

He's asleep.

"Poor baby," I say quietly.

Emmett laughs harder.

"Shhhh." I glare at him.

"Going to my room right about now seems like a good idea," he says, motioning to me.

I'm touching his cheek and running my fingers through his hair. I didn't even realize I was doing it.

"You remember the plan?" I ask him.

"Yeah, I do. I'll see ya in the morning, boss," he says and disappears out the door.

Before I untie Edward, I get up and make sure the chip I put in the back of his neck is working.

It tells me he's asleep, heart rate, respiration, and blood pressure. His location is also specified.

I smile and strip down to my bra and panties.

Black. He likes black almost as much as I do.

I turn off most of the lights in the room, make sure the door's locked and then head over to his hands first.

Each knot that slips through my fingers and unwinds, makes my heart feel lighter.

We're free.

He doesn't know it yet, but we're on our way.

His hands flop onto the bed, and red flags start to pop up in my mind.

Should he be this lax?

I'm the heavy sleeper, not him.

I hurry and finish untying his legs, take off the blindfold and gag, and when he's still out of it, I pick up my phone and dial Emmett.

"Hiya, miss me already? Or did he need his ass wiped?" He chuckles.

"What did you give him? He's not rousing," I ask.

"_Rousing_? Around you? Not possible. That fucker's always horny just thinking about ya." More laughter.

"I'm serious—he looks half-dead. Did you give him something to put him out?"

"It was only a little bit. He kept trying to scream and struggle, and I was worried someone would hear, plus, you know I can't stand the thought of anyone getting hurt," he explains.

"What the fuck did you do?" My voice goes up in pitch and yet it goes quieter.

"I gave him the good stuff," he says.

"Are you shitting me? You gave him date rape drugs?"

"Hey, he told me he's fucked you a few times while you were sleeping. Time to return the favor, right?"

"Shit, Emmett. He has to be hard for me to even be able to do something like that, and I don't know how I'm gonna get that when he's zonked out."

He chokes on something; sounds like he's drinking some fluid. "Shit, woman, you don't know men very well, do you? Some stroking, some sucking, and it won't matter if he's in a coma. His dick won't know he's out of it."

"You really are sick," I say.

"Just keep it down. I wanna get some sleep before I have to deal with him tomorrow and hauling his ass around."

"Night," I say, clipped and hurried, then hang up.

Bastard. Why did he do this?

I told him how to handle it. I told him specifically to untie him, tell him what was going on, and then Edward would be fine.

Did he listen? No.

Shit. What if he doesn't follow the plan tomorrow?

Edward moans and it's low and sounds pained.

I can't take advantage of him when he's drugged out of his mind.

What the hell do I do now?

I turn him onto his side, try to prop some pillows next to him so he won't inadvertently fall off the bed, and then I snuggle into his side and try to sleep.

Only, I can't. He's here. He's with me, and as usual, he smells like _my_ kind of drug.

"I love you—you don't know that yet because you haven't heard me say it to you, but you will. I'll say it so often, you'll get sick of it," I say, stroking his chest.

He's fully clothed with the exception of his bare feet.

I'm surprised Emmett had the courtesy to take his shoes off for him.

I nuzzle into him, take a big fat inhalation and wrap my arms around him.

"We'll be together after tomorrow. I promise. We'll have to run, but we'll be together, until I finish up my newest invention. Then he can't hurt us." I yawn and stretch, and before I can tell him anymore of the plan, I'm asleep; warm and safe. And Edward's a part of my life once more.

.

.

.

"Ides, wake up!" Emmett's voice calls out to me.

The bed shakes.

I blink and roll onto my back.

"What?" I groan and wait for my eyes to focus.

"I got word from Jasper. They're on their way. His dad found out," he reports.

"Fucking hell. Do you think Jasper told him?"

"I don't know, but I believe him when he says Carlisle's on his way," he says.

I blink hard, run my palm down Edward's chest and say, "Okay—take him. He's still out of it. I'll shower and get ready to face them."

"That wasn't the plan," Emmett says, his eyes scrunching in concern. "You can't handle him."

"He won't see me," I say, pushing up to sitting. I brush my hair off my face with my hands and yawn. "They're following the chip Edward made for me that I swallowed. His dad must've figured out how to reconfigure the remote. I'll keep it with me here in the room, and when they're on their way up, I'll slip out."

"How're you gonna know when they're near?" he asks.

"Jasper has connections."

"If he just sold you out, then doesn't it stand to reason, he's still working for Carlisle, and you didn't quite pay him enough to buy his loyalty?"

I nod and say, "I'm sure he'll do exactly that, but I have a trick up my sleeve in the form of a girlfriend of his."

"Whatever—_women_!" He tosses his hands up in the air.

"You only need to worry about how to get Edward downstairs without anyone asking questions about why you've got a half-dead guy, hanging over your shoulder." I drag my hand through Edward's hair once more. God, he's so beautiful and perfect.

And I can't stop touching him.

"Jesus, woman, I'm not gonna carry him around everywhere. What do you take me for, a pack-mule?" He points to the wheelchair by the door. "He looked awful when he arrived on his bike, and nobody's gonna think anything of it when I wheel his ass out."

"Fine. Sounds good. I'll take the bike when I go, so leave me his key for it," I say.

I stand up and stretch a little more.

"Sounds good." He claps his hands and pops his neck.

"Now, please," I say.

"Bossy, bossy, bitch."

I chuckle and he grabs Edward's keys, takes off the one I need and tosses it at me.

Of course I miss it, since I'm more uncoordinated than a meth-head with two broken arms.

He dies laughing, curled over on himself.

"It wasn't that funny," I grumble.

"Yeah, it was. The great Ides can't even catch a damn key when it's tossed at her from five feet away."

"Ha, ha." I tuck it in my pocket.

"Okay, ups-a-daisy, lazy-ass," Emmett says, and drags Edward off the bed then pulls him over to the chair. I manage to race behind him and hold the chair steady as he sets Edward in it.

"Hey, before I go, how did you find out who his girlfriend was? I've known Jasper for a long time, and he's a tight-lipped mother fucker. He's never said anything to me about a girlfriend at all."

I grin. "Well, Carlisle keeps tabs on all his employees."

"No fuck? You hacked into the big boss's computer?"

I nod and grin wider. "It wasn't hard."

"I suck. I never could've done that."

I laugh and my fingers are in Edward's hair once more. "Jasper doesn't talk about her for a reason. She's dangerous. She runs with some pretty hardcore crowds, and her thing is breaking into military databases."

He blinks and his jaw opens wide. "Fuck . . ."

"Yeah. All I had to do was find her, tell her who I was, and well, she'd heard of Ides before, so she was thrilled to do me a favor. I paid her, of course."

"Of course." He takes the brakes off on the wheelchair and turns Edward around.

I grab Edward's bag off the dresser, hand it to him, and I kiss Edward's forehead before Emmett wheels him away.

The second he's out of sight and out of the hallway, a tight, shrill sound wafts out of my chest.

He's gone.

Again.

Fucking hate it when that happens.

I collapse on the floor, and am suddenly a sobbing, womanly, germy mess.

This floor is disgusting.

I don't care how often they shampoo it.

People do sick things on hotel bedroom floors, and I wanted to do something to get the bed all tangled and germ-ridden, but I had no choice.

Edward was unavailable.

Like a rodent, I crawl into the bathroom, find my way into the shower and get ready for my day.

This has to work.

Once I'm done—dressed and have my stuff packed back up, I set the chip on top of the dresser in the middle with a paper under it with two simple words.

_EAT ME._

.

.

.

When I'm back in Edward's room where we first kidnapped him, I pull out my remote and press the green button.

Green is go.

Green is come.

Green is you're trapped, motherfucker, and you won't get near us again.

I pick up my phone and call Alice—Jasper's girlfriend.

"You there?" she asks upon answering my call.

"Yeah. You?"

"Yeah, and he's here, too. Wanna talk to him?" she asks.

I exhale through my nostrils, and it's a whiny, unpleasant sound. "Sure."

"'Kay—hold on a sec," she replies and there's a shifting of the phone.

I can't believe this.

I can't believe this worked.

"Bella?" he asks.

"Yeah, Dad, I'm here, and he's on his way. You out and safe?"

"Yeah, thanks to you." He laughs and it's an exhilarated, triumphant sound. "I'm so sorry for everything. I never meant for you to get dragged into all my dealings."

"Well, it wasn't just you. This prick named Carlisle, your long lost best friend and secret enemy, was trying to take over your business. Everything you sold, one of his associates bought, and he's the one that screwed you over, not me. The FBI was already watching you, so if I hadn't trapped you when I did, turns out he would've and you would've gone to a much higher security-prison," I tell him.

"I can't believe you were able to get me out," he says.

"It's legal," I remind him.

"So you say—sounded made up if you ask me," he says.

"I don't care what you think, as long as you do one thing for me, and it also means all that money will be yours tomorrow," I remind him.

"Yeah, I know. I'll stop him. Carlisle won't know what hit him."

"He's on his way now, the chip's here, and it's ready." I rub my eyes with my free hand. Why do I feel so exhausted already?

"This'll work. Don't even stress about it for a second," he says.

"I'll stop worrying once it's over. Take him down, Dad, and then you disappear. I don't ever wanna see you or him again." I end the call.

A few minutes later, Alice texts me to tell me my father's crying.

Fuck. I can't think about that now.

I sit on the bed, restless inside, and about to crawl the walls like some lunatic superhero—not the cool kind like Spiderman. He was smart. And at least he knew about germs on walls and always wore gloves.

He made cool webs, too.

Well, I make my own webs, and Carlisle's about to step into mine.

A half hour later, I hear the door open next door, and I know it's him when I hear a clear, aggravated, "Awwww fuck!"

_Smaaaaash!_

He's thrown something, or broken something.

And then that's right—he touches it.

"Bingo," I whisper and my eyes light up, my eyebrows dance on my head, and I'm singing some kind of dorky song I make up on the spot, about, "Bitch, I just smacked you down!"

I text Alice. **Got it?**

_**Got his DNA and then some. He spit on it and touched it.**_

One of the things about Carlisle? He's been very careful to always keep his hands clean.

Well, his computer wasn't totally spotless.

He kept detailed records of all the items he bought that my father stole from me, and detailed records of everything my father ever did that was illegal.

The micro-trackers I planted in that chip, hoping he'd smash it, are now being inhaled by him and anyone that's with him.

It's in the air.

Fucker's mine. Or my dad's. I don't care how they choose to destroy each other, as long as Edward and I are now out of it.

They're mafia-like wars don't concern me.

I wait for them to leave, text Emmett to make sure they're well on their way, and then I'm out the door, checking us both out of our rooms.

Edward's motorcycle is easy to spot.

I get on, and shit, I suck at driving this monstrosity.

I'm wobbling down the road for a few minutes as I get the hang of driving Edward's mountainous bike.

I've driven crotch rockets, but not crotch bombs. This thing's massive and a beast to handle.

Once I'm outside of San Diego, I've caught on, and I'm able to sell his bike, upgrade it with cash for a new one, and pay them off to seal up the record of sale so no one will ever know I'm the one that bought it.

**A/N:**

**Thank you to my two betas. They're amazing: Sunflower Fanfiction and Anakin Smom.**

**Chanse**


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10: Jackpot**

_EPOV_

"Why am I in Aspen with your pansy-ass?" I ask Emmett, rubbing at my temples.

I didn't remember drinking, but I sure as shit feel hungover.

"I brought you here—I already told you, Bella's gonna meet you, and I'll leave as soon as she arrives. Then you two can make clown-hacker babies or whatever it is you plan to do with her now that you've gone all good-guy and don't steal shit anymore." He smiles.

"Whatever," I say. He's shitting me. Gotta be.

His phone vibrates and he answers it. "Hiya," he says.

I roll my eyes and sip my coffee.

"No way! You sold his fucking bike? He's gonna kill ya. Maybe you should take the scenic route to give him some time to cool down."

I spit my coffee out; I'm out of the chair and rip the phone out of his hand. "You did _what_?"

"I can explain," she says, her voice all sexy and silky as fuck.

I turn away from Emmett, pacing. I'm half hard already.

"Explain why you're there and I'm here. Why aren't you with me?" I almost yell.

"Calm down, baby. I can explain everything. Sit down, grab something to drink, and I'll tell you what's going on, since I'm sure Emmett's already fucked it up."

"He has," I say, nodding, even though she can't see it.

"Drink your coffee," she says.

"Coffee? How'd you . . . ?" My head whips around from side to side. We're out on the back patio of a secluded rental cabin.

"Yeah, your coffee, and why are you barefoot out here? Animals piss all over these decks. The germs!"

I chuckle. "What else am I already doing that's pissing you off and turning you on?"

"Well, you do look rather edible in those black jeans, but then that's not fair. You know I'm partial to that color," she coos.

"Oh, you nasty bitch, you always know just what to say." I chuckle, lean back into the chair and take a drink.

Where is she? If she sees me, does that mean I can possibly find her if I look hard enough?

"What if I say that your father's dead?"

"Wh-what?" I choke on my drink, spraying it once more.

"Well, he's hurt pretty badly. He's in the hospital," she says. "I'm so sorry, Edward . . . And I had to sell your bike so he couldn't find us, but I didn't know my dad would do what he did so quickly . . ." she rambles.

"Where. Are. You? I need to see you right now," I say.

_Cliiiick._

The phone line goes dead, and when I turn around, the door opens and she steps out and Emmett goes inside, leaving us alone.

"I'm sorry. Do you hate me?" Tears stream down her cheeks.

"God, no!" I say, launching myself at her.

I tackle her to the ground, and she winds her body around me and shakes as she cries.

Before long, I'm weeping, too. "Tell me what happened."

"I broke into your dad's computer, and I found out that your father and mine had a long standing feud. They were jealous of each other, and it seems they had rival criminal rings going on. They were both thieves and trying to make a name for themselves. They were both into technology as well, so when I showed some aptitude for inventing crazy stuff, my dad pushed me really hard, and then when he tried to claim them as his own, and I got in the way, well, he felt he had no choice but to steal my shit and sell them as his own. What he didn't know was your father's people were buying my ideas and giving them to him."

I rub my left temple and then hug her so tight, my ribs ache. But then, it feels like Emmett was kicking the shit out of me while I was unconscious.

"Were they keeping us apart because of their issues with each other?" I ask.

"Yeah, I think so. It's not entirely clear, but my dad certainly does not like you."

I chuckle and kiss the top of her head. "I could tell when I went and visited him."

"Your dad was less than pleased when I paid him a visit as well."

"Well, it's a good thing my mom isn't in the picture," I say. "She'd have messed his shit up. She was always really sweet, and never put up with his crazy mood-swings."

"What happened to your mother?" she asks and kisses the underside of my jaw.

"She died when I was really little in a car accident," he says.

"Mine, too. And then my dad had this girlfriend he was crazy about for a few years, and she suddenly just disappeared."

"No shit? Mine did, too. What did she look like?" I stare at her beautiful face and kiss her softly.

"She had auburn hair, green eyes, and . . ." she trails off, her eyes going wide. "What was his girlfriend's name?"

"Libby," I answer.

"Libby Hogkins?"

She swallows hard. "Fuck! How's this possible?"

"Did you know her well?" I ask, sitting up straighter, my heart pounding.

"Yeah, she was great and came around all the time. I loved her to death."

"Christ!" I squirm in my spot.

"Oh. My. God!" we both manage to say in unison.

"She wasn't . . . Do you think she was pregnant and left because she didn't know who the father was, or something?"

"No," I shake my head. "I bet they told her to choose, and knowing my dad, he chased her down."

Her brows all but fuse together. "Why do you think she'd choose my dad over yours? My dad was a cop, and he didn't make much money. Well," she pauses, "legitimate money. I have no idea how much money he was stockpiling behind the scenes, since I was too young at that point to monitor his activities."

"She wouldn't have chosen my dad. He has a horrendous temper, and he's a nasty pervert."

"Into ropes?" she teases, running her fingers across my jaw.

"Fuck no! He's not that creative. He's into threesomes and orgies and shit. I heard about the parties he went to when he'd send me to Nana's for the weekend. That's when I started looking for girls that were nice—innocent and pure. And that's how I eventually found and fell in love with you." I kiss her eyelids, and she makes this soft, pleasurable sound that travels directly to my dick. "Can we stop talking about them now?"

"We can, but I wasn't done. My dad's in the hospital, too. They both got run off the highway."

"Shit. Did they crash into each other?" I shift her to straddling me and I cup her cheeks and stare into her beautiful big eyes.

"No. It happened at separate times and on separate freeways. I think they had another enemy I'm unaware of," she says.

I smile. "I don't care anymore. They got what they deserved."

"I thought you had a decent relationship with your dad. You defended him in court against me," she reminds me.

I chuckle. "I did that for you. I did it to see if you loved me or not. If you turned me in, then I'd know it was over. But you didn't."

I pull at the hem of her shirt and then drag it over her head.

She smiles at me and then does the same to me, pulling my shirt free.

Her warm palms settle on my chest and she bites her lip at me.

"I didn't because I do love you."

"Fuck," my eyes slide up in my head and I moan, "say that again!"

"I love you, Edward, Vapor, man I'll fuck every day until I die, and I will eat you, tied in ropes, and I will fuck you in the shower, and I will suck on you until—"

"Okay, this was all really hot until it turned into _Green Eggs and Ham_, BDSM edition." I cup her breasts and nip at her lower lip.

"What? I was trying to be creative," she says, shrugging.

Her tits bounce in my hand, and I laugh.

Until her eyes suddenly turn dark and her lids are half closed.

I yank her down to lying flat.

"Animal's piss here," she reminds me.

"And Edward comes here in his girl—no exceptions, so you can shut up now."

"You'll bathe me after in hand sanitizer," she warns.

"I'll hose you down with rubbing alcohol if it means you'll let me fuck you now; no more waiting," I tell her.

She giggles and it makes my cock knock into her hip bone.

I slide down lower, line myself up and rub all over her.

All at once, I can't take it anymore.

"I can't . . . I can't get it," I growl, trying to rip her clothes off, but my hands are shaking so bad, I can't do it.

I bite at her, break my damn zipper on my own jeans and struggle to lower them enough so I can get at her.

She has to help me, and she's making these breathy, sexy sounds that are so amazing, I almost come when her hands brush up against my dick when she releases me from the confines of my clothes.

"Slow down . . . Ah . . . Easy, Edward . . . Goddamn, easy, _easy_ . . . Wait a . . . Will you just—oohhh shit!" she says while I rip at her bra, breaking the straps off, and then I have her tits in my mouth while I'm already ramming my dick in her with her panties merely shoved aside.

"No more . . . I can't wait this long . . . Don't ever do this to me again!" I grit and slam into her.

A second later, I snap her panties off and drag them away.

I bite her neck, her tits and grip her so hard by the hips, I know there are already bruise marks forming.

"Slow down, you fucker—you're going to end it before I even get started," she says, pulling my hair.

As if that'll make me stop.

"Can't. Don't care . . . Have to fuck harder," I groan, my neck straining and my dick plunging ahead recklessly. "I'll hit your ass next if you don't . . . Ahhhhh God . . . I'm gonna . . . Don't do that," I warn her as she grabs my ass and bites under my ear really hard. "Fucking woman . . . Gonna make me . . . "

"Slow . . . I said easy . . . I bruise like a peach," she says then bites me harder. "Slow it down, junior."

"Fuck! God, I missed you," I say, thrusting harder. "Nothing like you . . . Feel so fucking good on my dick . . . Can't stop . . . You feel this . . . I know you do. Tell me . . ." I rip my neck away from her lips, suck her tongue into my mouth and angle myself higher above her so I can gain better leverage with my hips.

She reaches down and strokes her clit at the speed she wants.

Whatever. I'm sure she's getting some good friction from my jeans, barely below my dick and balls.

She moans and sighs and her breath hitches. Her abs flex; she breaks the kiss and tendons stand out in her neck as her head tips back.

I'm sure I resemble some goddamn wildcat, fucking his caught prize without consent, but I don't give a fuck. She's mine. She's under me. Will fuck her how I want—how I have to. There's no choice. None.

She moans with a strangled cry, and her eyes close tight as she all but rips the hair out at the nape of my neck. My mouth is back on her; breaths pounding into hers.

I release her mouth and get in her face. "Tell me you want me . . . fucking you all the time . . . Tell me you love my cock! God, Jesus, woman . . . Tell me you were dying like I was . . . to be with me." I stare into her eyes, and grip her chin. I pant hard and give her a harsh, penetrating look.

There's a hail storm of emotions in her eyes. "I love you, Edward. And I couldn't live without you; I tried . . ."

My frenzy kicks up another notch, and I fling her ankles up on my shoulders, grab her tits and jam myself so hard inside her, I can barely breathe.

"Fuck . . . Don't know what you're doing to me, my dirty bitch . . . Gotta have this . . . Gotta have you." I sweat and shake, about to explode inside her. "Seven fucking weeks . . . Of not touching you . . . Of not having this . . . I hate you for that."

She glares at me, and I speed up the pace to damn near supersonic. "Easy . . . God, I'm . . . I wanna come with you," she says, and she grips her thighs, pushing them together. "You bastard . . . Slow it the fuck down or I'm gonna . . ."

"Oh, shit . . . So tight . . . I can't last . . . Jesus . . . Too good, and you're . . . Fuck, you want me. My bitch wants me."

She nods and bites her lip through a mischievous smile.

"Gonna fuck you all night, woman . . . When you sleep, when you eat . . . You won't get away again," I warn.

"I love it, and I love you," she says. "I like the idea of . . . Oh, Christ!" she moans and her back arches off the ground because I've angled my hips up in such a way, I know I'm hitting the jackpot.

"You like that? You want more?" I taunt. "Good . . . You fucking kill me."

"Ohhhh . . . more, yes, _more_ . . . I . . . Edward . . . squirting's really dirty . . . but I'm gonna . . ." She makes a dying, whimpering sound at the back of her throat.

"Oh shit! . . . You're gonna . . . God, yes . . . squirt on me, bitch . . . be a nasty slut . . . I wanna . . . _C-cooommme_!" I grunt and strain, and it's too much, the idea of her squirting on me.

And then I bite her ankle, fling her legs off me, and she's doing it. Goddammit, she's squirting all over me, and I come undone.

"Ahhhh . . . Fuck, so hot!" I grit through my clenched jaw, my eyes heavy and locked on her gushing pussy.

I come so hard, yet I manage to reach down with my hand and catch spurts of her juices flying out of her.

Once I have some, I'm licking my palm and staring into her eyes, burning for her.

"That's disgusting . . . It might be pee—and I—" She cuts herself off as I shove one of my fingers in her mouth. Her eyes go wide and then she cries out. A second later, she's convulsing, gasping for air and clawing at my chest as she finds her orgasm.

And it's long, and hard, and dirtier than she is, and I fucking love it.

Her lips wrap around my finger and she bites me.

"That's it, come on me, dirty bitch . . . You squirt more, and I'll lick it all up, even if it lands on this pissed on deck," I say in her face through my clenched teeth.

I yank my finger out of her mouth and hiss at the pain of her teeth, scraping. She growls at me; I pinch her titties, and she milks my cock, finishing off my orgasm. It's hard to breathe, and I was barely able to say that twisted shit to her, but I had to. She's worth it.

"Ahhhhh God, you're trying to kill me for fucking with our dads," she says, her arms flopping to her sides.

I shove her legs apart and lick at her pussy, sucking up all the juices she fountained out of her cunt.

Tastes good. Tastes like her.

Her hips buck at me and her sensitive clit makes her shake as I suckle and lap at her. "I keep trying to tell you—that might be piss. No one knows what a woman squirts; and if you think I'll kiss you after you've—"

I cut that stupid shit off and lunge at her, shoving my tongue in her mouth. "Taste it . . . Tastes good," I tell her between breathless, spine-melting kisses.

She groans and pulls my hair again.

God, I love it when she does that, so I growl hard and bite her bottom lip.

"It's not piss . . . It's you, being my nasty bitch," I say.

"Christ—why do I love it when you say that sick shit to me?"

"Because that's what you are—my bitch. I own you now . . ." I smirk.

She reaches down and yanks at my pubes.

"Ow!" I say, pretending to be hurt.

"Big baby . . ." She rolls her eyes. "And I want you to know—this is how much I missed you—I went online, did some research, and taught myself how to squirt for you. It's exactly like urinating. I press down and I—"

"Shut up—I don't wanna know what you're doing, just do it every time, and I'll worship you every goddamn day of my life," I say, pressing my forehead against hers, trapping her on the ground.

I _am_ an animal. I'm almost head-butting her, telling her to release what might be piss and I'll lick it up.

"But the un-sanitariness of it—you have to know, if you're gonna keep putting your mouth down there," she says, her voice breaking a little.

"Get rid of that goddamn hair like I told you, and it'll be a faster, easier clean-up for me, but I'm not gonna let your pussy geyser go to waste, regardless of what you do. I'm slurping that shit up." I lick my lips.

"Those hairs protect me from getting infections," she says, rolling her eyes at me.

I slide my forehead across hers. "And I told you, it lowers incidences of crabs. It's good for you to whack those hairs off at ground level. They're weeds, getting in the way of my garden. And I need to sow some wild oats."

She giggles. "You're such an asshole, and so stupid sometimes."

"You love this stupid asshole, and his hungry cock. It really should be inside you all the time, but I figured your ass'll get jealous."

"I'm not into butt-fucking," she says then yawns and stretches.

"You are now."

"Am not. Think of how repellent those germs are. Defecation isn't a laughing matter," she says, narrowing her eyes at me.

She tries to sit up, but my knee goes on her belly, and I pin her in place.

"You're telling me you won't let me fuck your beautiful ass. Are you trying to wound me?"

She chokes on a laugh and her chest lifts a little with each chuckle. "Not having anal sex is not gonna kill ya."

"It sure will. I've gotta have you—all of you, and if I don't get my way . . ."

"You'll _what_? Invent a chip that sends impulse waves to my ass, telling it to open up and say ahhhh?" She shakes her head and sighs like I'm a hilarious joke.

"That's not a bad idea. Let's get started on that model. God, can you imagine the millions I'll make on that chip? I'll call it the debauched chip. It'll have a nudity button, where the woman has to strip down wherever she is. It'll have a cocksucking button, so she puckers up and sucks that dick harder and deeper than she ever thought possible. It'll have a—"

"I only make positive inventions—_you_ know—things that actually help humanity," she says and caresses my knee, now digging into her.

"Oh, shit, sorry!" I remove it and kiss her chest.

"Yeah, I'm sure you're torn up over it and you'll have a chip that apologizes for you, too." She slides up to sitting, and I straddle her thighs.

"I'm not kidding, Ides. We can do this. We can invent shit together and make millions."

She blinks and goes silent.

"What? What's wrong? You don't trust me to work with you on your stuff?" My heart yanks to the side and is replaced with a dead weight when her face goes stony. "That's it—you don't trust me."

I move off her and stand up, pacing right away.

"No, I . . ."

"You what? I can fuck you until you walk all bow-legged like John Wayne, and you can squirt all over me even if it grosses you out because of possible piss germs, but you won't share a moment of your genius with me?" My fist flies out and I punch the wall.

"You think I'm a genius?" she whispers, her eyes wide and her mouth forming in an O.

"You know you're a genius—stop fucking with me," I say, throwing my hands up in the air.

I turn around, pick up the deck chair and chuck it out into the goddamn wilderness.

"Unfucking believable." I turn to her, my eyes slits and my breathing harsh. "Do you know what you mean to me? I haven't stolen a fucking thing since I took that remote from you. I knew you didn't approve, so I stopped. Plus, I was really doing it because I worked for my dad. I even cut back on drinking—all for you. I'd give you all my best ideas and swallow my planet-sized ego so you could improve on them, and _you_?"

She winces.

"You won't even share a damn idea with me." I turn away from her; the stinging at the back of my eyes unbearable.

I run my hands through my hair and choke back the names I wanna call my pussy-self.

A moment later, a soft, warm mouth is landing on the back of my shoulder.

"You done with your rant so I can speak now?"

I turn to her and grip her arms. "Why? Why can't you love me like I do you? Why can't you see you're everything to me?"

She smiles and it's soft and warm and genuine, and fuck, I think I love her even more now, even if she's about to kick the shit out of me even harder than she has before in the past.

She places a finger over my lips.

"I love that you're such a douche-bag sometimes—stealing shit. But you're right—I don't want you to do that anymore, except . . ." I blink and try to nod ". . . except in the case that we might need to protect ourselves or steal stuff back that someone else takes from us." She bites the corner of her lip and her smile grows wider.

"Ussss?" I hiss between her fingers.

"That's right. I already filed to change the name of my company to Vaporides Inc."

"Holy shit," I whimper, her finger muffling me.

"Shut up. I'm not done," she says, her eyes all sparkly and girlie and shit. I kiss her finger; want to suck it and bite it, like she did to me.

"Our first project—is to dismantle your dad's business. Knowing him, he won't die, and we'll need to take him down. I have the codes for a prototype he was building."

Her fingers slide down my chip, over my Adam's apple, across my sternum and then straight down to my cock. My body ripples with pleasure under her soft, unhurried touch.

"God, I love you," I say.

"I know. You _better_ love me, since I let you fuck me in dirt and grime. I'm sure I'm swimming in untold of diseases that have yet to be discovered."

"I love it when you talk dirty like that." I grab her into my arms and pinch her ass.

She squirms and says, "Don't you wanna know what the prototype is for?"

I kiss her neck and my hands grip her ass. "Mmm . . . No, but I'm sure you'll tell me anyway."

My entire body pulses around her, and I'm rocking into her, my chest curling around her as I taste the muck and shit she professes is clinging to her body from my disgusting way of fucking her out in the open—out in the wild.

"He took my biggest idea—the one Tyler ran off with—my ex," she begins.

I pull away and glower at her. "I don't ever wanna hear about another man you've ever touched. Not Riot, not—"

"But don't you wanna hear about what I found out about Tyler?"

"No! Especially not him. You were gonna suck his dick, if I remember properly."

She nods her head and smiles. "But I didn't get to."

"Thanks be to Jesus and all his millions of microchips," I say.

"You'll want to know this, I guarantee it." She pushes at my chest to get away.

I grip her tighter and suck at the curve of her neck.

"Okay, so I'll skip the stuff about Tyler, since this big ol' baby can't handle it, but your dad stole my fatboy and was rigging it up to suck up security codes. It meant he'd be able to break into any place at all he pleased."

I pull away enough so I can look her in the eye. "No shit? He found a way to make the rocket work?"

"The _rocket_?" Her face pinches and her eyes are filled with doubt.

"Yeah." I chuckle. "I was trying to make this rock-like object that could be tossed down a chimney and disrupt security systems. I had Emmett fooled for a while that it worked on your place. It didn't. Jasper was helping me get in."

She smacks my chest. "You jerk; breaking in uninvited all the time. You nearly gave me a heart-attack each time, and your dad told me he was gonna kill me if I didn't find a way to keep you out permanently."

"What a dick," I say and sway her back and forth.

"Yeah, he's a big dick. I think yours is bigger though." She grins.

"Promise? Don't be a dirty bitch if you're not gonna back that shit up."

"Promise," she says, crossing her heart then sucking on that very finger that just swore.

"Prove it," I say, and I shove her down to her knees. "Open wide and say ahhh."

She not only drops her mouth open, but she reaches back, grabs my ass, and slams me forward into her mouth.

"That's my dirty bitch," I moan and she has me harder than fuck in no time at all.

**A/N:**

**Thank you to my two betas. They're amazing: Sunflower Fanfiction and Anakin Smom.**

**Chanse**


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11: Windows and Soil**

_EPOV_

"Got it," I say, starting the engine.

Emmett hops on his bike and follows behind me.

We part ways at the intersection, and a few hours later, we're at our new location.

"What color do you want it, man?" he asks as I roll into the garage and park.

"She doesn't like silver, so none of that. Go with basic black and maybe some purple streaks on the sides?" I say.

He smiles and salutes.

"I'll be back in a few hours. I need to take care of something else," I say and get in her Veyron then disappear down the road.

When I get home, Bella's napping.

She looks beautiful and so peaceful, but I need to fuck her.

I strip down; yank it for a second as I watch over her sleeping form.

Before I get going, I reach over to the nightstand, squirt some homemade lube onto my hand and slick my cock up.

She's got panties on. Too bad I'll have to break them.

I crawl up on the bed, cut them off with my knife and before she inhales, I'm inside her.

"Shit . . . You feel good, bitch," I moan, gripping her hips and riding her hard.

"Edward, what're you . . ." She glances down between our legs to find me fucking her.

"Yeah, I missed you . . . God, you're so tight when you're half asleep," I say. "So fucking snug, and insanely perfect."

"Did you get my message?" she asks and rubs the sleep out of her eyes.

"Yeah, I heard it, nasty bitch. Making me hard like that—not right," I say, thrusting harder.

"You deserved it, you cunt. I heard what you were doing. Emmett told me." She flips me off and bites her lip like she wants to bite me.

"He's such a tattle tale," I say, chuckling. "You knew I'd eventually steal my bike back. I love that bike."

"You could've bought it back," she says, and then she breaks into a caterwaul as I pinch her clit.

"I could buy you anything you want, but I had to do this . . ."

"Why?" she manages to choke out between breathless, heaving sighs.

"To show you I've still got bigger balls than you." I spread her legs real wide, and she flinches for a second, telling me I'm pushing her muscles too far. I let them inch back up, but only enough so it's not hurting her.

I lean over her chest and her nipples brush against me.

"Guess who had my bike? And don't say it—I know you already know—but that asshole wasn't going to sell it back to me," I say, nipping at her jaw. "He's been trying to find you, the ugly shit."

"Tyler . . . How . . . Is . . . He?" she cries out with each harsh slam of my cock into her.

"He's a fucking loser, that's how he is. He doesn't have you, and I do, and he can't have anything that's mine," I say.

"He's an investor in the metals we use for our . . . Oh God . . . Don't stop . . . Shit, Vapor . . . That's it, this bitch wants . . . Oh, god, ohgodohgodoh gaaaaawd!" She claws at my dick, feels it slick and sliding in and out of her, touching with her fingertips, almost worshiping our bodies joining together.

"Whose pussy is this? And who has the only cock you'll ever suck for the rest of your life?" I growl, gripping my fingers deeper into her thighs.

"It's all yours—_yours_," she cries out, her back bowing off the bed.

"Damn fucking straight it is. We're not taking shit from him. I don't want his money funding anything you do," I say.

She nods and her eyes close—a look of pure ecstasy on her face.

I pound into her, and we both go silent—no more words, only heated looks, groans of pleasure and her gushing all over me as I make her come hard.

I kiss gently and lick at all the places I was too rough with her. Over time, I keep thinking I'll be less crazed for her, but if anything, I seem to need her more and am constantly ravenous for her.

Everything about her makes me crazy for her.

So crazy I just had an entire conversation with her while I fucked her, because damn if I was gonna wait 'til later.

Both were pressing and needed to be dealt with.

My hands caress her and as my heart rate slows, so do my words.

"Bella . . . I love you . . . Was I too rough?"

She chuckles and places her hand over her heart then exhales with a dopey grin on her face. "When do you ever ask me that?"

"I always ask that at some point. It might be an hour later, but I don't really wanna hurt you." I kiss the corner of her mouth.

She still wears a lazy smile.

"It was perfect. You were talking _waaaay _too much, you lippy bastard, but it was fine," she says, still panting and trying to catch her breath.

I check her body over to make sure, even if she says it was fine. "Sometimes I wonder why you put up with my caveman shit."

She blinks and cups my jaw, dragging me back up her body. "Because I love your caveman shit. No one goes primal like you do."

I smile and kiss her, because yes, I do have that shit down.

"Okay, so change of subject," she says, her eyelashes fluttering for a second and her expression goes blank. "I want to talk to you about something else . . ."

"Oh God, no. That prick blabbed again, didn't he?"

"He did." She runs her hands up my chest. "What're you thinking? We've only been together for a month."

"Five weeks and two days."

"Does it matter? You know what I mean. We have to keep running and moving around until we figure out what to do about our dads and any other enemies they have that might be pursuing us." She exhales and her chest rounds, making her breasts look extra perky.

I play with one of her nipples and refuse to look at her.

"Jesus—are you pouting?" She runs her finger across my bottom lip.

"Maybe a little." My heart clenches and throbs. "Why shouldn't I?"

"Well, if you can't even discuss this with me like an adult, then there's your answer." Her fingers drift through my chest hairs.

I play with her other nipple now and fixate on it. "He shouldn't have told you that shit."

"Emmett can't keep anything to himself—you know that. So, if you're going to tell him something as private as that, then you should expect it'll get back to me."

I move up to kneeling over her and still keep my eyes on her tits, since she's probably frowning or glaring at me. "Please? I really want this—be a good little bitch and give it to me."

"No, Edward—Jesus." Her hands smack on my chest. "You know this would amp up my neuroses and anxiety level so bad, I'd probably stop functioning," she huffs.

"I'd help with everything the—"

"I don't care if you hire nannies and wet-nurses—do you know how much babies vomit and poop and pee? It's a germ-fest disaster of epic proportions. I can't have children. I'd scrub them with iodine solution until there was nothing left of them but bones." She smacks her palms on my chest. "And will you please look me in the eye?"

My bottom lip juts out even further and here it comes.

"Oh fuck . . ." she whispers.

"Yes . . . That's what we do, a lot, and we should make a kid." Tears stream down my cheeks. "I love you—and this is what people do when they're crazy in love—they make new people out of that love because their heart's too big to contain in one body."

Her eyes soften. "I can't . . ."

"Or won't?"

"Won't. Even if I could get over all my issues, which I probably can't, our life isn't conducive to having a family. We're on the run. We're not stable, and we . . ." She bucks her hips up into my ass. "I don't want to be stuck with kids right now. I love that you can throw me down at a moment's notice and fuck my brains out. It's shit like that—makes me feel alive and gets me out of my fucked up head. I'm not ready to give that up."

"Pregnancy is nine months," I remind her.

She rolls her eyes. "No."

"Please? God, think about it at least. Just don't say no." I settle my body back down over hers and kiss her lips softly. "You'd be an amazing mom, and I'd be a kick-ass dad. We should be a family."

She stares at me with a far off look and says, "We have time. We can revisit this later when people aren't after us, trying to steal our ideas and kill us."

No one's succeeded at any of those things yet.

"Paranoid," I whisper, and she smacks my chest. I laugh for a second, and it feels better but I'm still breaking inside over the idea she doesn't want to make babies with me. I love kids.

"Think of the dirty diapers and the smell . . ."

"Think of the amazing sex we'll keep having and how it'll result in something beautiful and perfect like you." I roll her on top of me. She shakes her head and smirks at me like she thinks I'm adorable. "Well, at least ride me to make me feel better, woman. It's the least you can do."

"The least I can do is get up and go sanitize. I already feel dirty with all this baby diaper talk."

I reach up and fondle her tits.

_Nice view, mama. I want them leaking with tittie juice . . ._

I lick my lips and let her take me inside and let me come once more.

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.

_Four weeks later . . ._

_BPOV_

I stare at the psychotic conversation on my phone screen. Is he crazy?

**Vapor: Yeah, I'm up for the job. You know I'm always hard.**

**Fingers: Yeah, he is. You should see this asshole. He can't ever keep his hands off her. It's sick.**

**Riot: Can we talk about something else?**

**Vapor: As usual—jealous.**

**Fingers: I get plenty of ass. I'm not the one obsessed with making babies.**

I hack into their conversation and join in. **Ides: Vapor, you got this? Are you concentrating on what we're actually here for?**

**Vapor: Bitch, yes, I've got this. I shouldn't have ever agreed.**

I roll my eyes. He bought this outfit off an actual homeless person, but I insisted on washing it several times before wearing it for this. I did make sure to sweat in it while cleaning today so it wouldn't smell so strongly of bleach.

**Riot: Ides, you OK with him calling you this?**

**Ides: Lol. This is tame for my fave asshole.**

**Stormy: Should I tell them what you call me in the throws, Riot?**

**Riot: No!**

I snort and fight off a loud, obnoxious laugh.

I glance over at them all scattered around the area.

Fuck, Vapor looks hot; his hair all a mess, wearing all black. I wanna have sex with him right now.

Why am I so horny? _Focus, Ides . . . He'll be here soon . . ._

**Fingers: God, you should see the woman Aro has. She's hot. Blonde, tall, all legs and big tits. I wanted to bang her in my shop yesterday as she eye-fucked me into speechlessness. And you know that never happens to me. I always have something to say.**

**Vapor: Tell me you weren't distracted. You did remove the security system on his car, right?**

**Fingers: Yes, you snotty bastard. I got the job done. Quit treating me like a child and get to work making your own.**

**Vapor: Talk to my girlfriend. She's the one being difficult. I'm up for that job every damn day.**

**Ides: I'm not squeezing out anyone's brats until I at least have a ring on my finger.**

**Vapor: Damn, woman. That's all you're holding out for? Why didn't you say? I'll buy you biggest fucking diamond on the planet. It'll make your fingers drag on the ground.**

**Ides: Not funny. Do you know how many germs are on the ground? People spit and piss on the ground. It's disgusting. Animals drag their ass on the ground to itch their crack. And where do you think people get ringworm from? Fuck!**

I break out my hand sanitizer and squirt a little dab into my hands.

"Here ya go," some nice old man says as he exits the grocery store and gives me a buck.

"Thank you, sir. God bless," I say and nod at him.

**Ides: *snort* Some old coot thought I really was a vagrant.**

**Vapor: Stop changing the subject. Let me knock you up.**

**Ides: We have a job to do. Concentrate.**

**Vapor: I do have a job to do. Get back over here and I'll get the job done now. I already threw out your pills this morning. No more of this horseshit. I want a snot-nosed baby.**

**Ides: We can discuss this later.**

**Riot: Where is Aro anyway? Shouldn't he be here by now? Or is he busy trying to kill the dads of some other hacker couple?**

**Fingers: Anyone with a gay name like Aro, can't be bothered to keep to a schedule. How he manages to run Hillcourt Corp, is a mystery between all his killings and shit.**

**Ides: Emmett, you know that man's almost as OCD as I am. He comes to this gas station every Friday night at 8. He'll be here soon. We were early.**

**Fingers: I hope he has the blonde with him, Rose. I can give her a ride home.**

**Ides: You're not fucking our enemy's mistress. She's not into mechanics that own a brake shop.**

**Fingers: Hey, I'm a whole lot more than a tool. I know how to drill shit and clean out her tubes.**

**Ides: Vapor, please go hit this Neanderthal over the head for me. And while you're at it, remind him to shut up tonight so we don't mess this up.**

**Vapor: It'll cost ya . . .**

**Riot: Keep it in your pants, boss.**

While I stifle a laugh, in comes Aro, and he pulls up to the same pump he does every weekend.

He gets out and my legs shake as I approach him.

"He killed Dad, he killed Dad," I chant over and over under my breath.

If Edward's dad hadn't left the hospital against the doctor's medical advice, he would've probably died of mysterious causes as well.

"Excuse me, sir?" I clear my throat.

He startles and his face pales.

Shit. Edward was worried he'd recognize me.

I told him there was no way. Was I wrong?

"Yes?" Aro's sickeningly high pitched voice asks.

"I've been out of work for weeks, and I just had my bicycle stolen. Is there any way you can lend me some change so I can grab something to eat inside this grocery store?" I ask and fidget.

I try not to watch Edward coming up from behind the vehicle. He has his phone out like he's checking messages.

_Yes, baby. Unlock the passenger door with the codes I gave you . . ._

I clear my throat then cough, just as Aro's about to turn around to get his fuel. "Please? I'm really hungry, and I haven't eaten at all today."

"I can see that—you're awfully homely and skinny. Here," he says, digging in his pants to retrieve his wallet.

He pulls out a five.

A _five_?

My left eye twitches. This man has obscene amounts of money.

"Is there any way you have a little more to give than that? This would barely buy me a loaf of bread and peanut butter. Some jelly might be nice to go with my sandwich," I say, fluttering my lashes a little.

Edward makes a face at me like I'm overdoing it. He gives the universal "cut it" sign, by slashing at his throat.

"A drink might be nice as well to go with said sandwich," I add.

Aro barks a stuttering laugh then replies, "Oh, I see . . . So you expect me to pay for your alcoholism?"

"N-no, sir. I don't drink. It's a vile habit. If you have a Breathalyzer, you can test me. I swear—I don't drink."

Edward puts a hand on a hip and gives me an even stronger look of disapproval; his lips pursed, his brow creased. Fuck, that's hot. My thighs tingle just glancing at him.

"How is it, an intelligent, well-spoken lady such as yourself, has been reduced to panhandling?" Aro thumbs through his wallet and pulls out a twenty.

I smile and respond with a nod. "Thank you, sir, and the only thing I can say is I've had a lot of bad luck lately. My father recently died, and it was just after I got him back." I curtsy and fight the urge to flip off Edward.

I turn and start walking away.

Edward's on his way in. He'll handle the rest.

I peak back over my shoulder for a second, and when Aro turns to pump gas, the car zips off.

I whirl back around and stand gaping at Aro, pretending I'm as shocked as he is.

"You . . . Did you see what just happened? Who took my car?" Aro gasps.

"No, I was looking the other way—headed inside the store," I say.

He points at me and suddenly rushes toward me, leaning forward. "You did this! You cost me my favorite car!" he snarls and rips the cash out of my hands.

"Asshole!" I grit and take off running.

When I make it to the rendezvous spot a block and a half down, in a quiet neighborhood, Edward's waiting for me.

The door's open, and I slip inside.

"That was a little too much," he says, smiling at me.

"Hey, I got it done. I told you I had this," I say, brushing my hair back over my shoulder.

He leans over; devours my lips with a hungry kiss.

"Home," I say, pointing at the road.

He smirks with a lopsided grin, and I pinch the side of his thigh.

A sigh leaks out of him.

"You were really sexy back there," I say, my fingers drifting through the hair above his ear.

He drives like he's got all the time in the world to get Aro's stolen car back to our newly secured fortress.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," I say and grip his hair at the roots. "I really wanted to have sex with you, and you know how much grocery store parking lots freak me out in terms of unsanitary conditions."

He smiles, nods and has this elated look in his eyes. "Good. I'm glad to hear that. It's going to make this much easier."

My eyes narrow. "What're you up to now?"

"Nothing you need to worry about," he responds.

A few minutes later, we're pulling into the garage and once the door's closed, he pulls me into the backseat and _click, click._

"The fuck, Edward? You brought my cuffs?"

He nods and sucks in his bottom lip, moistening it. When he lets it go with a pop, I'm trying to bite him.

My hands are bound to the death grip in the backseat above my head.

Why? What's he trying to pull?

"Okay, you have two choices," he begins.

"You're not going to get me pregnant in Aro's car," I answer immediately.

"Stop trying to guess—you suck at it," he says, chuckling. "Now, my dirty bitch has two choices like I was saying before I was interrupted." He pulls out of his pocket, what I thought was one of our remotes. It's an electric beard trimmer he uses for his sideburns. "Would you rather squirt all over his upholstery back here or have me shave those dirty, germ-infested pubes for you?" He wiggles his eyebrows.

"Neither. This is absolutely hideous to even think about!" I say, my voice going up about two octaves, and in this enclosed space, it sounds shaky and weak, though it's loud.

"Not a choice. If you decide to give me what you call your piss, then I'll lick it all off these leather seats afterward. And you'll be released so you can go inside, grab the backlight and come back out to do a better job of cleaning it off. If you choose to be shorn," he chuckles at his silly word, shorn," then I'll come back out here and vacuum them all up, but you know it'll be hard to get them all. I might miss some, and then your DNA will be in here for forensic scientists to find and future car thieves as well." Once more with the wiggly, flirty brows.

"This is sick!" I tip my head back and rest it on the car door.

He pulls off his shirt and stuffs it behind my back. "For cushioning," he explains.

"Yeah, 'cause you're all sorts of gentlemanly right now."

"Damn right, I am. Now, which shall it be, my sexy bitch?"

_Bzzzzzzzzz . . . _

He turns on the clippers, and I cringe.

"Okay, geyser-pussy—put that fucking horrendous thing away!" I tip my chin at the implement of torture.

"Sure? You'd look awesome with a bald pussy, and I'd reward you other ways if you did this little thing for me. If you choose the slip-and-slide option, I've got something else I'll be doing to you at the end, and you can't fight me on it."

"Jesus—when do you have time to think up shit like this? I thought you said I was a slave driver, planning this heist, making the necessary preparations."

His head wobbles from side to side and he shrugs. "Just don't sleep much now that you're in my bed every night. So, choose, and make it quick."

I huff. "I choose the fluid route. Hairs are staying—get used to them. Cavemen like hairy women."

He laughs and pulls out his pocket knife and cuts my shirt off.

"Hey, you paid top dollar for this apparel," I say, laughing.

"Yeah, and that homeless woman is probably buying herself ten more outfits just like it with how much cash I gave her."

"Next time find someone dressed in darker colors. Why would a homeless person ever wear a white tee shirt? It's just so . . ."

"Stupid?" he asks, then slices through the tattered up jeans.

"Enjoying yourself?" I taunt.

"Immensely, now shut up. This takes concentration."

He pulls the shreds of my clothing away and then licks his way up my right thigh to my right breast and bites through the bra.

His next move is to cut my bra off.

I scowl.

"I love this bra, you shithead," I say.

He smirks. "Okay, now you're gonna get the encore before I fuck you and make you gush. This can't wait if you're gonna insult me before I fuck you."

"No, no! Sorry, sorry, sorry!" I say through tight lips and laugher as he yanks my shoes and socks off.

He knows I can't stand being barefoot anywhere other than on my own pristine hardwood floors that I know are safe and disease-free.

"Yes, bitch. You earned it."

And then _pop_!

"Oh shit no!"

His hot mouth envelops me as he sucks on my toes one at a time, staring me in the eye the entire time.

"Think of how many germs are invading your mouth right now!" I squeal.

He slips a finger inside my panties he has yet to remove, and yanks at one of my curls.

His lips slide off my big toe and he says, "Oh, I forgot to tell you—not only am I a nasty pervy dick, I love germs. I use your toothbrush every morning and night!"

And that's when I scream so loud, the car actually rocks.

He rocks it harder a moment later though when he tears my panties off and slams inside me.

"Viruses . . . Amoebas . . . Bacteria . . . I love all of it." He licks the seam of my lips.

I grimace and when I try to turn my head away, he grips my jaw.

"Say you want me."

I shake my head.

"Say you're mine."

Another head shake. He grips a little tighter.

"Then at least marry me, woman." He rubs his face for a moment and growls.

He gags for a second then produces a ring between his teeth with a small black diamond.

"Oh, shit, that's so gross—"

"That's a yes," he says.

I nod, and as he shoves his dick in as far as it can go, while he simultaneously puts the ring on my finger. "I knew this was what you were waiting for. Now you'll have my baby?"

I laugh. "If you're into test-tube babies, then sure."

He growls, grabs my tits hard and bares his teeth at me. "No. Old fashioned way. I'm putting this kid in you with my dirty dick, and this dirty bitch is going to birth it screaming, pooping and peeing like all good girls do."

I whimper and when I can tell he's about to come, I bare down, squirting like I said I would for him.

He groans and his eyes roll back into his head.

"My bitch . . . God!" He shakes, falls apart and instead of coming inside me, he pulls out and jacks off all over the seat, adding his secretions to mine.

A black light isn't gonna be enough.

"We're giving this car to Riot as a parting gift," he says once he's caught his breath.

He takes a long slow lick.

And as his tongue's extended, swiping at the seat, I dance my toe up into his wet mouth.

"I love you, and if you ever try to shave me again, I won't ever have anal with you, or have your kid," I say. "Now, get me out of this sickening, stolen vehicle and fuck me properly—give me your come, sweetheart."

"Say that again." His eyes light up.

"I said, get your fucking shit together, Vapor; fuck me."

His eyes go wide and he stops breathing.

"Oh, yeah, and I got the birth control shot last week . . ."

His head drops, and I cough and sputter for a moment as I slip the key to the cuffs out of my mouth and chuckle.

"You're not the only one that's mastered the gag reflex."

"No, but I've mastered you and your mouth." He bites the key and removes it from me and right when I think he's going to unlock me, he does the unthinkable.

He grabs a handful of our combined fluids from the seat and smears them all over my chest.

"Here's to germs and come and babies."

I smile. "Here's to being a thief like my man."

"You know what I really want to hear—say it," he says, his shoulders rounded as he tries to sit up straight, but the space won't accommodate his height.

"I can't believe you're asking this of me," I groan.

"Say it," he repeats with a glint in his eye and a twisted smile in place. "I'm not letting you go 'til you do."

"Fine, you fucker—but only for this one night. And if anyone asks, I'm denying I ever said it."

"You're stalling, dirty bitch," he says, grinning harder.

"Because I thought I'd warn you first—tomorrow I'm taking Aro down so your gloating won't last long . . .." I stare at him, waiting for a reaction. There's no discernible change in his facial expression.

"Yeah, that's great. Now say it," he huffs, rolling his eyes.

I lean in and kiss him then take a deep breath. "You, sir, are a dirty son of a bitch, and in this moment, you're slicker than Ides."

**THE END**

**A/N:**

**Big, big news. I'm going to be publishing this story, but won't be pulling it since it's not really the complete story. I've added several more chapters to it, obviously tweaked it so it's not a Twilight fan fiction anymore and filled some of it out more. If you're interested in attaining an ARC, all I ask is that you give an honest review in return on both Goodreads and Amazon. Email me (the address is in my profile), asking for an ARC and tell me what format you'd like: pdf, epub, etc. I'm also considering writing a sequel entitled: **_**Catching Vapors.**_

**Most of**_** Slick as Ides**_**, the published version, is all written. Only have a few chapters left which I intend to finish next week so it should be on Amazon within about a month or two from now...**

**Also, don't worry… I'll be giving out **_**Slick as Ides**_ **published version for free many many times, so you'll have ample opportunities to own it without paying anything. If you're on my facebook group, I'm giving free copies to those readers for being such loyal supporters. If you want to join, we'd love to have you there.**

**Thank you all for reading and giving this story love, and much appreciation to my two betas. They're amazing: Sunflower Fanfiction and Anakin Smom.**

**Also, starting next week, I'll begin posting my next story I've already completed writing. If you like the Tudors, you may enjoy this one. It's called _God and My Right_, and it's a Henry VIII story where Edward's competing with the king for you know who's affections. That poor Bella's gonna have her hands full, and yes, there are plenty of medieval lemons involved. It's going to start posting on Monday now that this story is finished posting.**

**I'll also try to start updating my other stories more regularly as well. These last few months have been crazy busy and they just got away with me. Sorry about that if you've been following any of them. I'm gonna try to be more consistent with updates. :D**

**Chanse**


	12. Chapter 12

***Preview for the published version of Slick as Ides, to be released September, 20, 2013***

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.

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I wander back to my desk, and the minute I log into my favorite chat group, I see that name "Vapor," and I'm tingling and breathless right away.

God, he's so hot with the shit he gets up to. He knows exactly what to do to get me going.

**Vapor: You there, Ides?**

The monitor blinks at me with his private message just for me.

"Yeah, I am, you slimy bastard." I grin and type out a different reply though. **Ides: What's up? Invent anything today?**

**Vapor: Yep. Invented a way into your wet panties. Wanna come over and check it out, make sure it works correctly?**

I bark a deep, biting laugh. "Uh, no. Not happening." **Ides: Sure. I'll be right over . . .**

**Vapor: See, I knew you liked me.**

**Ides: Like is not an issue. It's an issue of trust.**

**Vapor: You can trust me. Have I done anything to warrant anything else?**

**Ides: Yeah, you have.**

**Vapor: Such as?**

**Ides: You seem to know too much about me. How is that possible? No one knows who I am.**

**Vapor: Did my research, sweetheart. You're all over the web, whether you know it or not. I know your signature when I see it, woman.**

**Ides: Right there—the fact you even know my gender is disconcerting.**

**Vapor: I've been tracking you down for months now. Do you know how hard it was to get into this elite hacker chat group? I swear they patted down my balls and made me turn my head and cough before they'd even let me in. Do they think I'll hunt you down?**

**Ides: Would you?** I swallow, and my pussy throbs. God, I wish he would.

.

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**A/N:**

**So, as you can see, some things have changed in this story, like the first chapter for example, but for good reason. The story went from 55K as a fan fic, to now 104K words, and I'm also in the works right now, writing a sequel called ****_Catching Vapor, _****with planned release of Valentine's Day 2014.**

**If you want to be an ARC reviewer (sent them out today, but I'm happy to give out some more), then I'll give you this story free in your choice of format in exchange for an honest review to be posted on both Goodreads and Amazon. If you'd rather wait until it's published September 20th, then at that point, well, I'll still give it to you free and won't require you to sacrifice a virgin or contact a Hollywood movie exec and tell them to turn this into a movie. See how nice it is when we all get along? I don't expect any of my original readers to pay for the published version. Just contact me on facebook or by email (addresses in my profile), tell me what format you want, and I'll email it to you, simple as that. And I swear I won't put you on a mailing list or anything along those lines. I honestly just want to give back to my readers for being so wonderful and supportive all these years. This is my way of saying thanks. It's because of fabulous readers and reviewers like you that I am still writing today. It's been exciting to share this publishing journey, and I thank you from the bottom of my heart for all your feedback. Mwah!**

**Chanse**


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